


The Light of Mu'atin

by Nirah



Series: Breaking Destiny [3]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-15 06:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14785346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nirah/pseuds/Nirah
Summary: After the events of Breaking Destiny, the Doctor and Harry take Ganbri on what was meant to be a fun adventure. When it becomes apparent that they have arrived on the wrong day, the group find themselves caught in the middle of a revolutionary uprising. Worst of all, their actions during the war could either save or disrupt their own timelines, with potentially disastrous results.





	1. The Doctor

**Author's Note:**

> This story is Part 3 of the Breaking Destiny series. These events take place between chapters 9 and 10 of Domestic Life (Part 2).

Vikked 8. It was a planet of massive cities of marble, with statues and art to compete with Rome's greatest. Its theatre was legendary, its music was said to bring tears to the eyes of the coldest of men, and its people were said to be the most joyous in the galaxy.

They had promised Ganbri a trip to anywhere he wanted as a reward for his good performance in school. His grades were excellent, his behaviour commendable, and, most importantly, he hadn't done anything to raise suspicion. He was only eight years old, but he had a good grasp on the concepts of what was typically human and what was not. He hadn't shown up his teachers too much, nor spoken of alien worlds or civilizations, nor let some time energy escape him in the sight of others.

Pretending to live normal, human lives was difficult but they understood how much harder it was for a child. Ganbri tried his best and they always made sure to reward his hard work.

Annabelle was unwell that week, so they decided to go without the Temple-Noble family this time. Ganbri was a little disheartened as Annie was the only friend he had that was privy to their secret lives, but it couldn't be helped. Jack had agreed to come instead, which seemed to cheer Ganbri up a good deal. Uncle Jack was a superhero in that child's eyes.

It felt strange to the Doctor to imagine that this was his life now. His son's behaviour at school and his husband's frustrations with work were his primary concerns these days. He fretted over things like keeping appointments and whether or not the roof on the house needed replacing. He still couldn't believe that he even lived in a house.

He'd never wanted a house. It took Harry several months of nagging before he very reluctantly agreed to move into a house and, even then, it was only because it would become increasingly difficult to live on Earth without a real address. His beloved TARDIS was usually parked in the backyard or the garage and he still spent the majority of his hours there, but he slept in a proper house with proper windows and a proper yard and drove a proper car. Ugh, cars. How much he hated cars now, with their red lights and traffic and persistent need to always have something broken.

Various negotiations with the government had them set up properly with real paperwork to 'prove' their identities and ownerships. Harry got a job within their first year on Earth at the Institute of Biomedical Engineering in London, where he was able to work his magic for the human race. He proved his value quickly enough and soon became one of the most sought-after names in the field. The less appealing side was that he was also required to teach, which he regularly complained about, though he didn't seem to mind the way students practically worshipped him. Harry didn't like to admit it, but he thoroughly enjoyed bathing in admiration and fame. Instead of a madman, he was a scientist and teacher once more, just like he had been in their early days at home. And he was comfortable that way.

The Doctor was less keen on the idea of working a nine-to-five sort of job. He didn't want to be committed to a day's work if he decided that something else was more worth his time and he certainly didn't like the idea of having boards to answer to or being forced to attend charity events pumped full of priss and politics the way Harry had to. Instead he behaved more as a freelancer. He helped the government with any situations that seemed alien in origin and even with some that didn't. He grew fond of the people in his Earthly neighbourhood and took up a bit of medical work again. He regularly did house calls for the elderly people in the area, giving them quick and not exactly 'local' solutions to their health problems. He'd learned to love them all and thoroughly enjoyed the idle day-to-day chatter of Chiswick's oldest residents—even the ones who weren't quite up to date on whether or not it was politically correct to refer to him and Harry as 'that queer couple'.

They even had friends—proper human friends with whom they would take turns inviting each other over for dinner. They had to lie a lot about their past but that didn't make them any less of friends. Harry worked with a man named Mark who was absolutely lovely, though the Doctor wasn't particularly fond of his wife, whom he was convinced flirted with Harry far too much. Then there was Amanda down the street that watched Ganbri for them sometimes and loved chatting with Harry about gardening. There was Tom and his wife, Hilda, who both worked with MI5 and had assisted the Doctor with several jobs. They usually invited the Doctor and his family over on game days, even though they weren't really interested in football, and they always had a good time. Ganbri was especially fond of Hilda and often asked the Doctor how she was doing when he returned from a case.

Nine years ago, the Doctor was alone and heartbroken with no friends left and an insane, injured man in his care. In a very short amount of time, all of that had changed very dramatically. It was good. He loved his life. It was just still a bit hard to believe that all of it had really happened.

"Permission to come aboard?"

The voice of his husband snapped him from his train of thought. Harry and Ganbri were standing in the open doorway of the TARDIS, with Ganbri practically vibrating on the spot from his barely contained excitement. Harry had been trying to teach him the importance of proper etiquette for space travel. They'd been travelling a lot lately, in their unsuccessful search for Jenny, and one of Harry's worst fears was that Ganbri might gravely offend someone and get hurt. The result of that fear meant that every time they wanted to go anywhere, Harry would make Ganbri wait for permission before he entered the TARDIS.

"Granted," he answered, turning his attention back to the ship's console.

Ganbri flew inside without hesitation and Harry quickly made a reprimanding 'ah, ah, ah' sound. "What do you say?"

"Thank you, Banni," Ganbri answered impatiently.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Harry replied, crossing his arms.

Ganbri stopped to turn towards the Doctor, standing straight and trying to look solemn despite the small, annoyed sigh that escaped his mouth. "Thank you,  _sir_."

"That's better."

The Doctor gave his son a quick nod of approval though he, personally, thought the whole thing was a bit excessive. He rarely bothered with such propriety and he certainly never bothered to teach any of his companions such nonsense, but Harry seemed to think it was important. The Doctor only played along because apparently the ring on his finger meant he had to, but Jack seemed to think it was brilliant and participated merrily.

The immortal man appeared in the doorway, standing tall and rigid in military fashion. "Captain Jack Harkness, requesting permission to board."

"Granted."

Jack stepped through the doorway, still standing rigidly as he raised his hand to his forehead in salute. "Thank you, sir."

"Oh, don't do that," the Doctor answered irritably.

Ganbri immediately leapt into that perfectly straight position that the Doctor hated so much and saluted Jack. "Captain," he said with a certain tone of pride.

"Oh, come on! Don't  _you_  start!" the Doctor protested quickly. "Who taught you to do that?"

"It's fine," Harry answered him quickly, placing a hand on the Doctor's arm and immediately sharing a soothing feeling. "He's just learning to be proper."

"Well, that's not what it looks like to me," he grumbled in return. He'd never been comfortable with military formalities and he certainly didn't like the way he saw Ganbri mimicking the rigid stance and salute occasionally when he played. He wanted to raise a scientist or a doctor or a teacher, not a soldier.

He gave his shoulders a little shake, trying to roll the annoyance off him as he set the ship to travel to Vikked 8. "Shut the door, Jack," he called out and, after Harry shot him a look, added very clearly: "Please."

Jack cocked his head to the side and pointed over his shoulder. "Donna's still coming."

"No, she's—"

"Permission to board, sir!" Donna's voice cried enthusiastically.

"Oh, for pity's sake! Because if I said no, it would stop you?" the Doctor groaned. "What are you even doing here? I thought you weren't coming?"

Donna simply looked at him with a stubborn little smile on her face.

"Alright, granted," he snapped, then turned and pointed a stern finger at Harry. "And if you tell one more person to say that, I'm not giving anyone permission and I'll go travelling by myself. I'll leave every last one of you behind!"

Harry smirked and said nothing, sliding his lower lip between his teeth. It was a direct challenge, the sort of look that said  _I'd like to see you try_. The Doctor scrunched his face up at him in return.

"Shaun's offered to watch Annie," Donna explained casually as she strolled up to the console. "She's asked me to take pictures and pay attention so that I can tell her the story  _properly_. Apparently, she's not satisfied with seeing a twinkle in your eye and being told that she just has to see it."

That was good really. Of course, he was always happy to see Donna, but he was doubly so whenever they were taking a trip with Jack. He was certain that he could already see Harry's fingers twitching, eagerly awaiting the first moment that Jack let his guard down so that he could get in a punch or a slap or some other form of physical abuse. The two of them turned into absolute children whenever they got together but they always behaved themselves a bit better with Donna around. Probably because she wasn't afraid to verbally tear holes in them.

"So where we going?"

"Vikked 8," the Doctor answered, looking over at her and grinning widely. "They call it the Cradle of Peace. The planet is the natural home to two separate species of high intelligence and once, a very long time ago, one species ruled as masters over the other. The Gurani kept the Bahgites as slaves, keeping them like property to be sold and put to work and killed however their owners saw fit until the Bahgites finally rose up in defiance. The war was terrible and bitter, but it was the last war that world has ever known. Now the two species rule the planet in peace as true equals and it is said that the people there are the happiest to be found in the stars."

A smirk appeared on Jack's face while a scowl suddenly appeared on Harry's. The Doctor could only imagine what wildly inappropriate thought had gone through Jack's head and spilled out to be picked up by Harry's overly sensitive mind. Jack didn't seem the slightest bit surprised when Harry's hand shot out and gave him a quick slap to the back of his head.

"Every year they hold the Freedom Festival," the Doctor continued. "To celebrate the day that marked the beginning of their new and better world. The Gurani decorate their wings with powder light and dance until all the sky is shimmering and the Bahgites put shells in their hair so that they jingle when they sing. The air smells like setchie fruit and sweet wine and roasted Alhr and no amount of singing is loud enough to cover the sounds of laughter. People of all species crowd together in the streets and embrace people they've never even met before. Everyone is a friend. Everyone is family."

"It sounds nice," Donna said quietly with a smile.

"It is," Harry confirmed. The Doctor saw the way the corner of his mouth tugged up slightly and a warm tendril of thought caressed his mind.

The two of them had left Ganbri with Donna and gone there together seven years ago, letting the joyful frenzy of the festival wash away some of the pain left over from the Nightmare's War. It worked. For one beautiful weekend their scars were just scars and any memories of Kahlia that Harry thought of were of his happy and ambitious little girl, rather than of the monster she had become.

"Dad?" Ganbri's voice said quietly as the Doctor felt a hand tug at the corner of his jacket. "Can we go?"

He laughed a little and reached for a lever on the console. Ganbri was not yet old enough to appreciate the build-up of anticipation. Everyone held tight while the TARDIS wailed and shuddered. They landed with a slightly heavier thud than the Doctor had planned, earning him a slightly annoyed look from Harry. He'd been told off more than once for flying clumsily with Ganbri on board.

"I hope you all brought your dancing shoes," the Doctor said happily. He winked at Harry just to make him smile and reached his hand out for Ganbri to take hold of. Jack offered his arm courteously and Donna accepted it with a mock curtsey.

When the doors opened, there was no sound of singing or jingling shells. He didn't smell the setchie fruit or the roasted Alhr. There were no crowds in the streets or coloured banners and, while the sky had its usual tint of purple, there were no clouds of shimmering powder.

"You got the wrong day," Harry said with certainty.

"I did not!" the Doctor protested, leaning out the doors to get a better look at the pale stone buildings. "We must just be a bit early or something. Come on."

He stepped through the doors and everyone except Harry eagerly followed him. He glanced back to see his husband with arms crossed, looking out uneasily. Any other time, Harry would have been out there without hesitation, but he was always wary whenever they took Ganbri with them.

He supposed that Harry having personally witnessed the deaths of all three of his previous children would do that.

"It's fine, Tokrah," Ganbri said happily, holding out his hand in invitation. "I won't let go. I won't wander off."

Harry sighed and his eyebrows moved together a little but he gave in. He stepped onto the street with them and pulled the TARDIS door shut behind him, then took Ganbri's hand in his own. Jack chatted merrily as they walked down the silent and empty streets. He'd been thinking about trying to restart the Torchwood organization again and asked if the Time Lords would help him find new ways to keep his team safe. Harry agreed without a second thought, but the Doctor was less sure if a new Torchwood was a good idea.

Ganbri tried to get them to swing him by his arms as he walked between them. He was rather big for it now, but they tried anyway. With some difficulty they got a good couple of swings in and, thankfully, the boy was satisfied.

"That looks like an official type of building," Donna said suddenly, pointing out a building that was much larger than the others and had plenty of decorative carvings in the stone. "Would that be a good place to ask about the festival?"

"Probably."

He was starting to feel a bit uneasy as well when they approached the building. They still had yet to see a single living soul. He hadn't seen any signs of a festival either. Jack was walking a bit stiffly now too, watching things carefully but not failing to keep a smile on his face. Harry, however, tended to walk with a more relaxed looking form when he felt threatened—easier to begin a run or jump or twist that way. They were trying not to look it, but they were on high alert already.

Great white marble doors opened of their own accord as they approached, earning a delighted "Ohh, that's fancy" from Donna. They walked into the cavernous foyer, thousands of trees carved into the white stone all around them while the crystal ceiling filled the rooms with sunlight and rainbows.

"I am so sorry, sir," a high-pitched voice said in distress as a Bahgite scurried up to them. "We did not expect you until this evening."

The Bahgite's skin was a deep purple rippled with hints of orange. Her head was indistinguishable from her neck, looking more like a long tube poking out of her dress with two pairs of glassy blue eyes at the top. She had no mouth or nose but rather a series of holes varying in size, beginning just under her eyes and travelling all the way down until they vanished beneath her clothes. Her long, thin fingers trembled and twitched with a series of complicated gestures as she spoke, and her silvery white hair swayed back and forth as she moved her head, the holes in her neck opening and closing according to the movement, producing sound and, thus, speech. If she had put shells her hair, they would make a merry jingling.

Ganbri stared at her with his mouth hanging open.

"I am Quqarid, Mr. Feishe's steward. Please, follow me to the lounge and make yourselves comfortable," she said quickly, hair swaying vigorously as she ushered them through one of the foyer's many doorways. "I am afraid there may be a wait before Mr. Feishe will be able to see you as he is currently in a meeting. Please, let me know if there is anything I can do to make the wait more enjoyable."

"Do you have any Alhr?" the Doctor blurted without a thought as they settled themselves in seats. "You know, the roasted kind with that fruity sauce on it?"

Quqarid gestured vigorously with her hands. "Certainly, sir. Would you prefer it aged or young?"

He'd never been asked that before. "Aged, I suppose. I don't think I've ever had it aged before."

She gestured again, more dramatically than before. "May your family's prospers continue," she said and then hurried from the room again.

The walls in this room were carved too—buildings of some great city with the sun gleaming above them. The decoration was fairly minimalistic other than that. Their seats were simple benches with soft, black cushioning and no backs.

"Why does she keep doing that thing?" Ganbri asked quietly, moving his hands around to show what he meant.

"She doesn't have the same kind of face that we do," Harry explained. His voice sounded bored, but his eyes were carefully scanning everything in the room. "She moves her hands like that to show us expressions that we would normally show with our faces. Mostly what she was doing was showing us how she smiles."

"Like this?" Ganbri moved his arms in an imitation of Quqarid's movements.

"You can just smile," the Doctor answered. "You have the right face for it."

"Why are we still here?" Harry asked suddenly, leaning in close so that he could speak quietly. "We're obviously not here at the right time and she clearly thinks we're someone else."

All the Doctor could do was shrug as though it should have been obvious. "Don't you want to meet Mr. Feishe?"

"No, I don't," Harry hissed back. "You can come back and meet Mr. Feishe another day."

The Doctor heard the unsaid part of that sentence echoing from Harry's mind: another day, when Ganbri wasn't with them. They had both been very careful with Ganbri when it came to travelling, more than a little paranoid that something could happen to him. Oh, how they feared for that boy. Perhaps too much. The Doctor had decided that it might be best to relax a little now that Ganbri was getting older, but Harry hadn't quite gotten there yet.

Quqarid returned a minute later to provide them with iced water and a small platter of pink berries while the Alhr was being prepared and hurried away again. They spent another twenty minutes chatting amongst themselves and investigating the ornate wall carvings before she returned again with a crystal platter of freshly roasted Alhr, red and steaming and drizzling with an orange fruit sauce.

The Doctor thanked her kindly and picked up a piece. "Try some," he said enthusiastically. "It's really good."

Harry took a piece before he had even finished the sentence and popped it in his mouth, the signs of his sullen mood erased for a moment. They had gorged themselves on Alhr and sweet wine on their last trip and just the smell of it brought back the happy memories. Quqarid stood near the door, gesturing smiles at them as she waited to see if they were satisfied.

He noted the difference in the taste—a curious kind of rough texture and a juicier flavour than he was familiar with. He supposed it must have been because it was aged. But there was something about it he couldn't quite put his finger on . . .

Donna and Jack were already chewing happily by the time Ganbri reached for a piece, but Harry's hand flew out and grabbed his wrist before he could put it in his mouth. The Doctor looked over at him, saw the expression on his face, and realized what was so different about the flavour.

"What is this made of?" Harry asked quickly.

Quqarid stopped gesturing smiles and gestured confusion instead. "Alhr, of course. Just as you requested."

"It's just called Alhr," Harry answered, frowning at her. "It's supposed to be made primarily from kiracga beans. This is not kiracga."

"Oh!" she cried out as though she had come to a realization and gestured another smile at them. "You must have had it in the fashion of the Free Cities, where they use kiracga beans as a substitute. Here it is still prepared in the tradition way, with true Alhr."

"What's that mean?" Donna asked with sudden concern in her voice. "What have I just put in my mouth?"

"We keep our own in the kitchens so that it can be prepared fresh," Quqarid explained, blinking at them and gesturing confused curiosity. "This Alhr has been prepared especially for you."

"It's an animal?" Jack asked, chewing his piece slowly and thoughtfully.

"Yes."

"So you asked for roasted Alhr and she went downstairs and slaughtered an animal for you," Jack said with an amused tone to his voice as he turned to look at the Doctor. "Nice."

"It's supposed to be made from beans," the Doctor answered with a frown.

"Only in the Free Cities," Quqarid replied politely.

The Doctor sensed feelings of concern ebbing from Harry. His brown eyes were staring at the platter thoughtfully and his fingers were curling into fists. He had a suspicion, or else he knew something that the Doctor didn't, and he wasn't sharing. The Doctor silently asked to be let in on his thoughts, but Harry put a wall up around his own mind and shooed him away.

"Can I see them?" Harry asked suddenly, looking up at Quqarid and smiling warmly at her. "I would like to see the Alhr that you raise here."

She gestured an expression of mild nervousness. "I'm afraid it will not be very clean at the moment. The cooks will not have had a chance to finish their work yet and the Alhr will still be feeding."

"Feeding?" Donna asked, cluing in to what she meant.

"Yes," Quqarid nodded. "There are pieces that are unfit for use and the cooks often give those scraps to the other Alhr to eat. It is messy work."

Donna and Jack exchanged worried glances, but Harry continued to smile. "I can handle a little mess. I would still like very much to see them."

"If it pleases you," Quqarid answered, giving a polite bow.

"It would. Thank you," Harry stood and shot the Doctor a look that told him he was meant to follow. Donna stood up even quicker than he did and the look on her face stated clearly that there was no convincing her to stay behind. Harry didn't say anything about it. He just turned to look at Ganbri.

"You stay with your uncle," he instructed firmly. "You hold his hand. You do  _not_  wander off. Under no circumstances are you to leave his sight. Do you understand?"

Ganbri nodded his head vigorously but then asked anyway: "Can't I come?"

"No. Be a good boy and stay here for now. We'll be back in a minute."

"Yes, sir," Ganbri answered with a slightly disappointed tone and sat back down next to Jack.

They followed Quqarid down more carved marble hallways, beneath ceilings of white, blue, and red crystals. The dazzling lights passed over Harry's face like shadow.

_ What is it?  _ the Doctor asked him telepathically, his hand reaching out in search of his husband's fingers.

Harry took his hand, entwined their fingers, and then said in a quiet and grim voice. "You fucked up."

Harry seemed to know what was going on and clearly didn't like it, yet he wasn't insisting they leave. He was afraid there was danger and yet he wasn't dashing to get Ganbri back into the TARDIS. The Doctor suddenly remembered a dark day, eight years past, when he saw Harry covered head to toe in blood.

He would have gotten a taste. He would recognize the taste.

The Doctor suddenly felt sick to his stomach, realizing now what they might be facing. And, oh, if there were any true god out there, he prayed to it now that they were wrong.

They descended a flight of stairs to the kitchens, hot and fragrant from the recent cooking. The smell of roasted Alhr suddenly wasn't so appealing. The Doctor’s stomach churned once more.

Quqarid apologized for the mess while a Bahgite cook scurried forward, apologizing profusely and gesturing embarrassment with his hands. The black countertops where the cook had been working were wet with blood, chunks of meat had been cut and piled neatly off to the side from the remains of the carcass left sitting there. There was not much left of it, but the Doctor recognized a ribcage and a pair of legs easily enough.

There was a bin next to the counter top that he made the mistake of looking inside. There was some poor creature's digestive system and a large pile of bloodied flesh with clear signs of fur peeking out here and there.

"The live ones are this way," the cook explained quickly, leading them past the gruesome sight and around another corner. "You requested the aged, yes? I chose a good female, healthy, strong, twenty-one years! I have ones that are more aged if the Alhr displeased you, sir, or many young if you prefer."

The Doctor couldn't think of what to say now. Harry didn't say anything either, and Donna bore a look of distraught helplessness. Quqarid was gesturing for worry and nervousness, just like the cook. They were afraid that they had displeased their guests somehow.

When they turned the corner, the Doctor felt his stomach drop. It was exactly what he had hoped it wouldn't be.

"Have a good look at them, sir. You pick which one pleases you and I will prepare it. Any you wish!"

Before them was a wall of bars that sealed off a separate room, much like a prison cell or a cage in a zoo. There were about a dozen of them in there, but the cell was large enough to easily house thirty. There were children and adults alike—aged and young.

Many bright eyes turned to look at them fearfully, faces and hands covered in blood and the leftover scraps of their latest dead. They had fists full of the discarded meat, clutching it fiercely, too hungry to care that half an hour ago that meat had been sitting amongst them. Blood dripped from large curved fangs and the Doctor remembered the last time he had seen such a thing.

He remembered fighting the Nightmare's War with someone who had known him for years and yet he hadn't met them yet. He remembered being disturbed and even a little frightened by the strange little Alreesh man. The blood frenzy he had seen overcome Jack Nista suddenly made far more sense to him—the way he embraced the fight, the kill. The way he fed off his victims. This was the world Nista had come from.

There was no mention of the Alreesh in the stories. All he knew of Vikked 8's final war was between the Gurani and the Bahgites, but the Alreesh had nothing to do with any of it. Though, now that he thought about it, he had no idea where the Alreesh people actually came from. They were like gypsies, small groups of them to be occasionally found in every corner of the universe and they constantly moved. They didn't seem to have any true home.

The Alreesh looked at them now with terrified eyes, fearing that another would be taken for cooking. A few bore their teeth and snarled while some backed away, whining and whimpering.

"I am so sorry that the meat displeased you," the cook continued, gesturing great distress as he looked at their faces. "In truth, I chose the female partially for her strength. Ever since the hostilities with the north began, the Alhr have seemed affected somehow. They have become more aggressive. The female was strong and healthy, yes, but wilful. She would encourage the others to misbehave and I thought it would be best to dispose of her. But with such a healthy Alhr, I thought the meat would satisfy."

Donna stammered a little. "But they're not—"

"Pigs," the Doctor interrupted her. "Cows. Chickens. Think of what some people do to dolphins and whales."

They may have known the Alreesh to be people, but every culture is savage if looked at through the right eyes. Without the TARDIS translating them, the Bahgites would sound like they were whistling instead of speaking, and the Gurani spoke in combinations of whistles and clicks. The Alreesh would sound like nothing more than snarling animals to them, with no discernible language. It was highly likely that they didn't recognize them as anything more intelligent than average livestock.

Harry blinked and swallowed, his hands curled into firm fists. "How much have the hostilities escalated?" he asked in an oddly hollow voice.

"Severely," Quqarid answered immediately. "The northern Bahgites shame us in their rebellion. They do not know their place. It is said that we are already at war. Mr. Feishe is trying desperately to put an end to it that trade might continue with your people. I am sure he is very eager to discuss it with you."

"Yes," the Doctor said to her quietly. "We're very eager to discuss it with him too."

"Mr. Feishe should be available at any moment," she answered, once again gesturing a smile as the Alreesh went back to feeding. "Please, come."

As they made their way back through the kitchens and up the stairs to the beautifully carved halls and crystal ceilings, the Doctor made himself come to terms with what was happening. This couldn't be a coincidence. Jack Nista had to be here somewhere, and they were meant to find him and get him out alive.

If Nista died during the 'hostilities', he would not be there in twenty years' time on the Nightmare's ship. Ganbri could die. They could all die.

"He didn't bring us to the Freedom Festival," Harry explained quietly, turning his eyes towards a confused and distraught Donna. "He brought us to Freedom  _Day_."


	2. Jack

"Is everything alright?" Quqarid asked, gesturing to them that she was worried. Harry had practically kicked open the doors to the room where the others were waiting, Donna looked horrified, and the Doctor's eyes had darkened with shadows.

Jack looked to them both eagerly, looking for a sign or signal of some sort. They would look to him if action needed to be taken and so he prepared himself to move.

"My friends are gravely offended with the Alhr you have provided," Harry practically snarled at her. "They have no interest in speaking with Mr. Feishe if this is how he treats his guests."

"I am terribly sorry to have caused offense," the Bahgite responded, frantically waving her hands. "Please, allow me to provide—"

The ground rumbled and the air split with the most deafening sound Jack had ever heard. The building that made it must have been very close by, but now it was likely scattered around for a mile. Jack could clearly hear heavy chunks of stone and marble hit the roof of the building and littering the streets outside.

"What the  _hell_  was that?" Donna shrieked, clutching Ganbri firmly against her.

"The war is come," Quqarid answered quietly, her glassy eyes turning towards the ceiling.

"Perfect!" Harry said in a loud and oddly enthusiastic voice. "Course it has. Marvellous. Quqarid, I'm going to need to speak to Mr. Feishe now."

"Mr. Feishe is unavailable."

There was something different about Quqarid all of a sudden. Her hands had ceased all movement. She was not frightened, and she was not tripping over herself to keep them happy either. Even as she spoke, it was now in an oddly calm voice with a poorly veiled layer of glee.

She was not the least bit surprised to hear the explosion.

Harry must have noticed too because he suddenly grabbed her arm and twisted it in his grip, making her gasp. "I'd like you to take me to him anyway."

Quqarid wrenched her arm free and tried her best to stand up straight, then gestured a smile. "Of course, sir. Right this way."

Harry glanced at the Doctor and the two passed a look of understanding between them. Jack stood by and waited to see what was needed of him.

The moment Harry and Quqarid were out of the room, the Doctor pulled his screwdriver from his pocket and tossed it into Jack's hands. "I need to find out who exactly is coming and why. I need you two downstairs. Ganbri, you are to stay with Jack  _no matter what_. You do  _not_  leave his side. Do you understand?"

"Banni, why can't I stay with you?" Ganbri protested.

"I don't believe I said anything about this being open for discussion.  _Go_  with Jack and  _stay_  with Jack!"

"Yes, sir."

Jack grabbed Ganbri's hand and fled the room with him, Donna leading the way. It made perfect sense to take the boy with him the moment buildings started blowing up—he was a meat shield that never broke. Having an unkillable bodyguard definitely gave you an advantage.

As they hurried along the marble hallways and descended the stairs into the basement's kitchens, Jack thought he knew what to expect. Neither of the Time Lords had said anything, but he'd learned to read them well enough over the years. There was a path they had already walked down and yet it was still waiting for them—he had a feeling that they had caught up to it once more.

"Don't look," Donna told Ganbri when they stepped into the kitchen, but the boy looked anyway.

Even if he hadn't, the smell of blood was rich enough in the air to recognize, especially for the advanced senses of a Time Lord. Under it, Jack could also smell the putrid stink left over from when the poor creature was gutted. Ganbri's eyes were wide and round, but he said nothing. He simply stared at the remains of the body on the counter tops and kept walking.

They heard the creatures hissing and snarling, restlessly moving about in their cage. When Jack laid eyes on them, he saw that half of them cowered while the other half bristled with anticipation. The soft fur of the females and children stood high on end, making them look as large as possible, while the males that were old enough to have shed their adolescent coats pulled their lips back to expose their enlarged fangs.

It had seemed immediately obvious that they were meant to free the Alreesh from their cruel prison and Jack had not even thought he would hesitate but, looking at them now, he wasn't so sure. The scraps of meat and blood under fingernails and between teeth told him that they were likely hungry, and the way they were presenting themselves was less than friendly. What if they opened the gate and were immediately attacked by the entire pack?

"Donna, you have to talk to them," he whispered as quietly as possible as they approached the hissing cage.

"Why me?" she asked, seemingly horrified.

"Alreesh have a matriarchal social structure. They'll be offended if I speak to them first because I'm male."

"By the looks of it, I think these ones are a bit more primitive."

But there was no more time to argue. They were too close to the cage to say anything more without the Alreesh hearing them. Every pair of shining eyes on the other side of those bars were watching Donna intently and paying no mind at all to the two males in her company.

Donna was right though—these Alreesh were more primitive than the ones he was used to. In the time that Jack was born in, the Alreesh people could be found on just about every space station and planet he'd ever been to and he was quite familiar with their culture. This was a time long before that though and it was entirely possible that that culture had not yet developed. All he could hope for was that they hadn't gone too far back in time.

"My name is Donna," she began somewhat weakly, lacking confidence in her voice.

"Who is Donna?" one of the females responded suspiciously. Some of the meeker Alreesh were staring wide-eyed and frightened, perhaps amazed to see another creature that could speak their language.

"She is our Mother," Jack dared to speak, giving Ganbri a gentle nudge with his elbow.

"She is our Mother," the boy parroted without hesitation.

The strongest female led the pack, but the best and most honoured leaders were titled Mothers. The only requirement outside the demands of character and ability were that a Mother had to be an actual  _mother_. By their standards, Donna qualified.

The Alreesh female continued to stare at them, looking both unimpressed and confused. It was then that Jack realized she was waiting for Donna to be properly introduced. The use of a first name only was considered very casual for the Alreesh, who almost always called each other by at least two names.

It took him a moment to remember the format. Every Alreesh had their own, individual names that were followed by the names of both parents rather than by a family name. If he remembered correctly, females gave their mother's name first while males gave their father's.

"She is Donna-Sylvia Geoffrey," he added carefully, watching them for a reaction. "Mother of Annabelle-Donna Shaun and all who walk in her protection."

God, he hoped he'd done that right.

"Your Son is talkative," the Alreesh answered, glaring at him with disapproval.

"He is what I want him to be," Donna answered haughtily, catching on quick. "Your Sons are quiet."

She looked at them with eyes that seemed to pierce right through. "I have no Sons," she whispered quietly, angrily. "We are Motherless now."

Donna glanced toward Jack with uncertainty and he took it as a sign to speak for her again. "Donna-Sylvia will take you into her protection, if you will come with us."

The female eyed him angrily again, seemingly offended by his abrupt speech, then turned to address Donna. "We belong with our own kind."

"Maybe," Donna agreed. "But you definitely don't belong in a cage."

The two looked into each other's eyes for a moment. The female Alreesh pulled back her lips to show off her fangs for a brief second but then paused. She glanced behind her, at the group of thin and ragged kinsmen, and looked at their hopeful eyes.

"I am Guin-Po Deda'i," she said, standing straight and tall but no longer looking Donna directly in the eye. "Please accept me as Daughter, with my Sisters and Brothers, until we are able to return to our people."

Donna stepped back from the bars. "Jack, open the door."

And, just like that, it was done.

The Alreesh did not hesitate to flood out from their enclosure. Several of them immediately vanished down the hallway and could be heard ravaging the kitchens while some simply scurried into the shadows to await instructions. Others emerged from behind the bars cradling wounds, and their smooth-skinned Brothers dashed about to find whatever they could to tend to them. But each one, without fail, paused for a brief moment to lift their chins and expose their throats to their new Mother. Donna was clever enough to know that she was not supposed to return the gesture.

Ganbri's hand tightened its grip on Jack's, and he looked down to see the boy's eyes wide with a mixture of fear and wonder. "I've had dreams," he whispered so quietly that it seemed he almost didn't want to be heard. "I didn't think they were real."

Ganbri had been a baby the last time he had seen an Alreesh. Jack Nista had looked upon him as an infant with fascinated eyes and bled to defend him. Jack hadn't thought before about whether or not a Time Lord could remember events from their infancy, but now he did wonder.

"Guin-Po," Donna said quietly, glancing around at the crowd. "We were looking for someone. Do you know anyone called Nista?"

The look on the Alreesh woman's face immediately saddened. "Had you come an hour ago, you could have met her."

Donna's eyes widened in horror and Jack didn't need to follow their path to know she was looking at the blood staining the hands and mouths of those around her. "She was—?"

"Nista-Po Deda'i was our Mother—my blood sister. Now she's gone."

"I'm so sorry," Donna said helplessly.

"Now is not the time for mourning," Guin answered, with a sharp edge to her voice. "We knew this day was coming. Nista was our Mother because the gods chose her. It was said that one day she would feed us and give us her strength, and on that day strangers would take us back to our people, and the light of Mu'atin would lead us to freedom. Today, Nista has fed us and here you are. Today we will be free."

"Free!" several Alreesh suddenly roared.

Others took up the call, while a few more shouted praise to either the gods or their Mother. For a moment, Jack was worried that the Doctor's oblivious decision earlier to feast on roasted Alhr may have altered the flow of time. Could it just be coincidence that the dead Alreesh woman's name happened to be Nista?

"It's that one," said Ganbri.

The boy's voice had been so quiet that Jack almost didn't hear him, had it not been for the way Ganbri tugged on his hand. He pointed into the crowd of Alreesh, to a group waiting anxiously in the shadows. There were three children huddled around their feet, still ripping at some stringy pieces of bloody meat.

"How do you know?" Jack asked.

"I'm not sure," Ganbri answered, sounding genuinely confused by his own words. "I can see him . . . through time. We know him, or . . . we will. I don't know."

"He's only a boy," Guin said, frowning at them both. "But yes, he carries my sister's name."

"He's her son?" Donna asked, looking over at the group of children and already looking like she might tear up.

"Her blood son," Guin corrected. "Though I don't know what you could possibly want with a child."

"The gods told you that we would find you," Jack said quickly. "They told us we would find  _him_."

Guin-Po eyed him curiously but seemed to find his words acceptable. "Da'in!" she barked suddenly. "Come introduce yourself to your new Mother."

Jack held his breath and wasn't really sure how to let go. He knew that if he looked at Donna that her eyes would be filled with tears. She was too soft-hearted to see people in this state without wanting to cry for them, let alone children. To think of the young man that had fought so hard and nearly died to protect them had grown up in a world like this would be too much for her. Part of Jack hoped that they were wrong and that this was all a twisted coincidence.

A tiny Alreesh child approached them cautiously, no older than six, still covered in soft fur, with teeth that were only just long enough to peek out from his lips. There was blood on his hands, in his fur, on his mouth. The black hair that they knew to tumble down in curly locks was nothing but short dark tufts, but he still had those black freckles on his cheeks and his eyes still shone as bright and golden as they had when they met him.

_ We killed his mother _ , Jack realized with a sick rolling in his stomach.  _This kid is going to save us all one day and it began with us killing his mother._  It was then that he remembered that he, too, had eaten a piece of the roasted meat Quqarid had presented to them earlier.

"I am Da'in-Nuek Nista," the boy said in a clear voice, clutching a scrap of his mother's ragged skin in his hands and raising his chin to expose his throat in submission. "Thank you for accepting me as Son."


	3. Harry

Perhaps the plan had been to kill him. Harry didn't really know. He had been too quick.

The moment the doors had swung open and he spotted Mr. Feishe sitting in the great carved stone seat at the back of the room, he acted. Before they had even stepped through the doorway, he had Quqarid's arm in his grip again, twisting it around behind her back, using his free hand to pull out the knife he kept in his pocket and push its blade in through one of the many holes in her long neck. If she so much as breathed too heavily, the muscles inside that tubular throat of hers would slice themselves open.

"Come on out," he called, adding pressure to Quqarid's arm to encourage her to step forward.

They walked into the room together, the Bahgite's body acting as a shield for his own. As he expected, Mr. Feishe hadn't moved a muscle, nor would he ever. His shining brown exoskeleton worked perfectly for keeping him propped up in his seat and the regular waxing he must have done to maintain it kept it looking healthy even now. Though his body didn't breathe and his eyes didn't see, the creature in the stone chair looked very much alive.

But Mr. Feishe was apparently a very busy man and not expecting them. When he had had no warning at all that someone was coming to his office, why would he interrupt his very busy schedule in order to sit down as though to receive guests? Probably because it was a lot easier to make a dead body sit than to make it stand up.

The cook from the kitchens downstairs crept out from behind the thick green curtains that hung on either side of the chair. The knife in his hand was still red from the blood of the Alreesh woman in the kitchens, but it had been joined by the thick black substance that had once kept Mr. Feishe alive.

The Bahgite male simply looked at him for a moment, gestured a smile, and bowed his head deeply. Then, without hesitation, he reached out a hand to grab Mr. Feishe by the thick plate that covered his cheek and pulled him forward, dumping him unceremoniously onto the floor.

"I am afraid Mr. Feishe is still unavailable," the cook said, gesturing another smile.

The cook’s hand gripped the handle of his knife, flexing and feeling the weight of it. Harry positioned himself carefully so that he was fully protected by Quqarid in case the weapon was thrown at him. But the cook simply sat down in the enormous seat, leaning back against it and sighing in a truly satisfied way.

"You're rebels," Harry stated.

"We're people!" the cook answered angrily, ripping off his blood-stained apron and tossing it onto Mr. Feishe's body. "And people get angry."

He could feel Quqarid's body trembling as he held her firmly in front of him, but she was not afraid. He could sense her emotions far easier than he could translate the expressive hand gestures her people used. She quivered with excitement. The feel of a knife in her throat only prevented her from moving at this moment, but it would not be enough to stop her should she decide that he was a threat to their movement.

He realized suddenly that he was alone with them. There was no one to back him up if the two Bahgites attacked. He might have no choice but to kill them. A knife wasn't exactly the cleanest way to do that sort of thing and Ganbri was only eight years old; he didn't want to have to explain to his son why he left with a guide and returned with nothing but her blood on his clothing.

"Your fight is not with me," he tried. "Fight your war with your enemies, but let me and my family go home. We've done nothing to you."

"You came to do business with Mr. Feishe," the cook answered in return, his tubular head barely moving as his voice hissed out of the holes in his throat.

Mr. Feishe hadn't been expecting them until that evening, that's what Quqarid had said. That did mean that he was expecting someone from off-world to conduct business—someone that looked human. The final war of Vikked 8 happened during the rise of the Second Great and Bountiful Human Empire, when a surge of power meant a sudden thirst for more and the humans had begun to gather slaves. Mr. Feishe was a Bahgite slave trader.

"I only came for information," he answered, his eyes carefully scanning the room for options. "My companions and I are allied with the Free Cities. I played my part just as you have yours."

The muscles around a few of the holes in the cook's throat tensed and shifted. Despite the lack of hand gestures, Harry recognized it as a smirk.

"The Free Cities sent warriors hidden on your ship—simple servants and crewmen in your eyes, I'm sure. As we speak, they are spreading through the city, setting beacons for our ships and neutralizing the city's defences. Mine and Quqarid's role was to alert the others when you arrived, signalling the start of our movement. The slaves of our city are all turning on their masters, removing the biggest players before they are even aware that the game has started. Players like Mr. Feishe," he glanced at the corpse on the floor and used his hands to gesture pride. "Very soon, our armies will descend from the sky. Without their leaders, the enemy troops will scatter and fall."

"You've made a mistake," Harry answered, almost feeling sorry for them. "Your people are going to be slaughtered."

"We shall see."

Harry wasn't sure if he had caught a whisper of thought from Quqarid or if he instinctually picked up on the way her muscles tensed, but he did manage to act faster than she did. Apparently, the cause was more important to these two than their lives. He pulled the knife out of her neck just fast enough to prevent slitting her throat open as she lurched forward and twisted. She tried to grab his arm, probably to wrestle the blade from him, but he curled his fist around the knife's handle and punched her right between the eyes.

He ran. He had seen the cook climbing over Mr. Feishe's desk, but Harry was out of the room before he could see who he was turning his attention to. He knew for a fact that he could run faster than them, but this house was enormous and he was unfamiliar with it. They could cut him off, herd him to a dead end or a trap, get ahead of him to reach the others first. Maybe he should have just killed them both to be safe. Probably.

He reached out with his mind, searching for his Doctor. He felt him faintly, far away, alone, and in distress. But if the Doctor had survived the Master in all his madness and wrath, Harry was certain that he would manage on his own for now. Ganbri was still in the house and the Bahgites knew it.

He reached out again and quickly found an answer. Ganbri was frightened but Harry felt a touch of wonder and curiosity in there too, so he couldn't have been hurt. He followed that connection through the maze of carved walls, following it like a beacon in the dark. They should never have brought him here. They should never have taken him from the safety of Earth.

"Dad!"

Ganbri's voice alerted him to the corner he was meant to turn and nearly missed. He didn't slow down when he laid eyes on his boy, but instead sped up and scooped him up into his arms without stopping. If the others wanted to live, they would just have to keep up. He saw the blur of Alreesh bodies as he ran past, but he didn't stop to see how many—more than he could keep safe, that was for certain.

"What the hell happened?" Jack barked at him.

"The arrival of the people the Doctor so wisely chose to impersonate was the cue for the Bahgite's to begin their revolution," Harry shouted back at him. "We need to get the Doctor and leave  _now_!"

He should have killed them. Fuck, they could be anywhere. It wasn't worth the risk of an ambush just to spare Ganbri the sight of his father with blood on his hands. He could have just cut himself with a knife as well and claimed it was his own blood. Hell, Bahgite blood might not even be red. He could have claimed it was juice or something.

"I do not follow this man," a voice protested.

He glanced over his shoulder and the Alreesh woman's eyes met his in fierce defiance. "You wanna stay and die, be my guest."

"Harry, we can't go back to the TARDIS," Donna piped up, catching up to him and grabbing his arm to bring him to a stop. "We don't know where the Doctor went and Guin-Po only agreed to follow us if we helped them find their people."

"Guin-what?"

"Guin-Po Deda'i," the Alreesh snarled. "And your people will receive no help from my nephew unless your Mother honours our bargain."

"Who the hell is her nephew?" Harry asked in irritation, his eyes distractedly scanning every corner and his ears sharply listening for any foreign sounds. Perhaps the Bahgites hadn't bothered to follow him? Could he be so lucky?

"Da'in-Nuek," the Alreesh woman answered haughtily, as though that explained everything.

Donna touched his arm again to capture his attention, and her eyes glanced off to the side. "It's Nista, Harry," she whispered.

He looked. The kid was more than two feet shorter, with his scalp fully intact, and eyes that spoke of a ferocity inspired by fear rather than that of a predator, but he was, without a doubt, Jack Nista. Or Dean, or whatever they called him.

"Right," he sighed in frustration. "Listen, Gwen. We have—"

"My name is Guin-Po Deda'i, you insolent beast," she hissed in return. "And if you speak to me out of turn again, I will peel away your lips and eat your tongue to teach you the value of silence."

He wasn't sure what his face did, but he felt every cell of blood in his system begin to race through his veins and every muscle tense in anger. Whatever his face did in response to that was enough to cause Jack to immediately grab him by the shirt to pull him away from her. If this woman was Nista's aunt, he understood now where the little twerp got his arrogant mouth from.

Her lovely soft fur would make a beautiful rug for the library.

Donna stepped forward, standing between them. "I honour my promises," she said firmly. "This one is only afraid for his blood son. Tell us where to find your people and we'll get you there."

"When the light of Mu'atin shines, it will show my people the way."

"What is that? How do we find it?"

Harry was about to answer for her, when he caught a glinting of light through the corner of his eyes. He turned his body, just quick enough to protect Ganbri from the tiny shiny object soaring through the air.

Donna screamed. Jack pulled out his gun and fired somewhere that was suddenly too blurry to see. Harry tried to put Ganbri down gently but he was pretty sure that he just sort of dumped him onto the floor. It was alright, he figured, Ganbri was so big now that it wasn't that far to fall.

"Fucking cook," he muttered, plucking the tiny dart from his shoulder. It was carved from Gurani chitin, probably a plate that Mr. Feishe had shed and left for Quqarid to clean up, never suspecting she might turn it into a weapon. It also looked like Mr. Feishe had provided the flexible and translucent Gurani wing scales used to fletch the dart, like tiny dragonfly wings.

Jack ran off, his footsteps echoing strangely against the stone while his gun boomed like thunder. Donna swam before his eyes.

"Harry?"

His legs wobbled a bit, but Gwen caught hold of him. Two of the Alreesh immediately rushed forward to take the burden off her. The bitch was gonna rub that in later.

His lips felt numb. "Poison," he managed to say, straining his eyes to see her. "I need—"

Donna cut him off with a shout that was unbearably loud and yet so very far away. "DOCTOR!"


	4. The Doctor

The Doctor was not very accustomed to Ganbri connecting with his mind. They made small, daily connections—the same sort of thing any Time Lord would experience when communicating with another. At particularly emotional moments, whether they were sad or happy, they sometimes connected more thoroughly, the way a father and son were meant to but, in general, they tended to keep their minds to themselves.

That was why it came as such a shock when Ganbri's consciousness burst into his mind without warning.

It had been bad timing, really. There were Bahgites and Gurani fighting each other only a few feet away, oblivious to his presence thanks to a certain preoccupation with staying alive and the cover of a crumbling marble wall. The way he shouted out in surprise at Ganbri's invasion caught their attention though.

One of the Gurani split away from the fight to investigate the source of the sound and the Doctor scrambled over rubble to find something else to cover him. Ganbri's presence in his head screamed for attention, despite the way the Doctor shot back frantic messages to give him a moment. He suddenly felt like he'd been blasted three years into the past when Ganbri went through a phase of relentlessly pulling at whatever limb was closest chanting the word 'Dad' as if he were attempting some sort of ritual.

This building had been reduced to little more than half-walls and gravel, but he managed to dance around the remains of it long enough for the Gurani to give up. The Doctor crouched low to the ground, as close to the wall beside him as possible, and answered the desperate call with the telepathic version of an irritated ' _what!?'_

His inexperience when it came to connecting with Ganbri made the communication difficult, especially over such a distance and when his son was afraid. Emotions were easy to transmit but translating into words was harder. The Doctor had to force himself to relax and send some calming thoughts outward before Ganbri was able to focus his message.

The message was still a bit garbled, but the word  _poison_  rang out like a gong.

The Doctor swore under his breath and peered over the top of his broken wall for one lingering glance at the tower in the distance. He had no choice but to return to the others first and it was unlikely that he would be able to separate from them again if someone was hurt. He really didn't like the thought of trying to cover that much distance with a group.

"No choice," he reminded himself with an unhappy hiss before turning his back on the tower and running back towards the others.

Ganbri led him back to the group. It felt a bit like listening for breaks in radio static to get a better signal than it did following a calling, but it still worked. Despite the more important things around him and despite the fact that no one could possibly know, he felt himself feeling oddly embarrassed that he had such difficulty holding a smooth connection with his own child.

Jack was gone. Donna seemed to be experiencing a full mode of panic, her feet frozen but her hands unable to stop moving. An Alreesh was down, and it looked like out. But most noticeably, Harry was being supported between two Alreesh males.

"It was this," Ganbri explained immediately. Clever boy had had the sense to leave the dart on the ground instead of picking it up.

"It got me too!" Donna shouted at him immediately, showing him the shining black dart in her arm. "And one of the others, over there."

He ignored the look of horror on Ganbri's face when he picked the dart up off the ground and gently touched the tip to his tongue. The darts were actually venomous, not poisonous, and could therefore be harmlessly ingested. Unless he had a scratch in his throat or a stomach ulcer or something . . . He swallowed rather hard after that thought.

"Kagui extract," he announced, standing up and immediately plucking the dart from Donna's arm. "Harmless to humans."

"I'd feel a bit more confident if you did something a little more science-y than  _lick_  it!" Donna protested.

"What about Tokrah?" Ganbri asked worriedly. He was trying to be brave, but the Doctor could hear the small quiver in his voice that gave away his fear.

"Nasty shock for us," the Doctor explained, watching the way Harry struggled to get his own legs to support him. "Dizziness, diminished senses, and a loss of co-ordination, but not dangerous at all. The Alreesh, however . . ."

He glanced at the Alreesh that lay down amongst the broken stones. She was a young female, fourteen or fifteen at a guess. The looks on the faces of the other Alreesh told him that they already knew she was dead, so there was no point saying it. The fear of being poisoned was likely the only thing that had stopped them from eating her at this point.

Harry was trying to say something and the Doctor had a good idea of what. He always had a rather nasty habit of exposing the Doctor's lies, but telling the others that the toxin was lethal to Time Lords wasn't going to help anyone at this point. Besides, they had at least ten minutes before Harry's first heart stopped beating. Ten minutes was all the time in the world.

"Where did the darts come from?"

"Jack's dealing with it," Donna answered. "Doctor, we have to get these people to safety."

"We did not ask for safety," an Alreesh woman answered quickly.

"Yes, I know. You want to find your people so that you can fight but," Donna paused, taking a nervous glance at the group of Alreesh around them and dropped her voice a little. "Don't you think you and the others should find your feet first? Get some food or some rest? Guin-Po, you just lost your sister."

"Now is not the time for mourning," the woman answered. "We have rested enough and Mother Nista-Po Deda'i gives us strength. We fight."

"I'll tell you what," the Doctor interrupted irritably. "You lot do what you like. I'm going to do some really clever and important things."

"What are you talking about? You can't just saunter off and leave me to deal with these people on my own," Donna practically shouted at him.

"In case you haven't noticed, Donna, I'm very good at sauntering off. So yeah, I can!"

She glared at him. Hard. He glared right back and didn't flinch. It was a silent, seconds-long battle of wills but he didn't care what she had to say. In nine minutes he would be a widow, and there wasn't a single living thing in the universe that wanted to be on the same planet as the Doctor on the day he became a widow. Again.

"Alright!" Donna cried with exasperation, throwing her hands in the air. "Where are you going to do your . . . your—?"

"Really clever and important things."

"Right. That."

"That way," he answered, pointing at a slim tower carved from solid, shining white marble.

Donna squinted at it, waited, and then adopted a face of pure annoyance when he failed to offer further explanation. "Why that way?"

"Because it looks like a very clever and important building," he answered hurriedly, glancing over his shoulder to see if Jack was coming back yet. "And clever and important buildings tend to be full of clever and important things."

Ganbri turned and looked him square in the eye. "A lab."

He didn't like that look. "Yes. A lab."

"A medical lab." It wasn't a question. Damn, that kid was too smart for his own good sometimes.

He glanced over his shoulder again. "Where is Jack?" he asked impatiently. "If he's gotten himself killed again, I don't want to hang about all day waiting for him to get back up."

Eight minutes to widowhood.

Donna glanced at Harry and the Doctor thought he saw a glimmer of realization in her eyes. What was the point in lying to people if they figured out the truth anyway? Clearly, spending years at a time with anyone was not doing him any favours.

"Jack can catch up," she said quickly, then waved her hand to signal the Alreesh behind her. "Let's go!"

He tried to take Harry's arm in place of one of the Alreesh, but the little men simply stared at him and refused to move. They were little more than five feet tall and he doubted they weighed more than a hundred pounds each but he didn't have the time or the patience to work out why they cared who carried a man far bigger than them. It would be better if his hands were free anyway.

If he hadn't been regularly glancing back to look at Harry and see if Jack was catching up, he wouldn't have known that there were a whole group of people hurrying along behind him. Incarceration had clearly done no damage to the Alreesh people's abilities as predators. They slipped over the smoking rubble of the nearby ruined buildings as smoothly as if they were gliding over it. The two struggling with Harry between them rustled and jostled a bit but, though it was certainly not graceful, it was still startlingly quiet.

How long would it take them to get to the tower? Two minutes? Three? He had no doubt that the tower was a science center after spotting the communication relays and an obvious telescope peering out one side, and science centers always had a medical lab of some sort. But what if the labs had all locked down after the explosions? What if there were terrified scientists and employees barricading themselves behind refrigeration units and arming themselves with fire extinguishers? And then of course—

"Doctor!"

Donna grabbed him roughly by the arm and yanked him backwards, behind a crumbling wall of stone. He never saw or heard what she had protected him from, but he felt the searing heat of it graze his belly as it rushed past. He could smell the fabric of his suit burning and a glance down showed black, charred marks streaked across his jacket.

Combat. Right, they were in a war zone. But he didn't have  _time_  to be in a warzone right now.

"Ganbri," he heard his husband murmur.

"Shut up, Harry, I've got a plan!" he barked angrily. After nearly a thousand years, the old idiot didn't get to give up and start saying his goodbyes now when they had a whole seven bloody minutes left.

"Doctor, they saw us," Donna said with panic, peeking around the stone wall at whatever being had shot at them. "They're busy fighting but they keep looking over here. They know where we are!"

"We will fight," Guin-Po offered enthusiastically.

"No," the Doctor answered firmly. "They have guns. We don't. It would be a slaughter of your people."

"Then we hide," she offered instead.

"We can't hide! We have to get to that tower  _now_."

"Then we die," she answered bluntly, putting her hands on her hips.

He brought his hands up to his head, both of them grabbing fistfuls of hair and pulling as though he were trying to root the thoughts out of his head. His senses were filled to the point that it was hard to think. His nose was filled with the scent of smoke and blood. His eyes burned and his ears rang with the noise of the chaos. He tasted the particles of vaporized stone and chemicals that were never meant to be launched into the air. Fear and panic from a thousand strangers was filling the air around him like a tidal wave and he could do nothing to keep it out. For a moment he thought he could almost hear an old familiar snarling in his head and he was flooded with an unbearable, ravenous hunger.

The Alreesh had ignored his disagreement about hiding and were already positioning themselves low against the ground and broken walls. The two men carrying Harry shifted closer to the wall and kept their eyes sharp. Every last one of them looked perfectly prepared to run like their feet had wings and never look back.

"Dad, what do we need?" he heard Ganbri asking him.

"I . . ." He could hear Harry's laboured breathing from where he stood, somehow growing louder as it grew weaker, overpowering the sound of everything else. "I-I need . . . I need gunpowder," he managed to stammer out. "Gunpowder and mint. Uh, ethanol . . . Calcium. Insulin. And Gurani chitin." He pulled his hair a little harder and turned in a circle a couple of times. "But all of  _that_  is over  _there_  and we can't get out from behind this wall without getting shot. Where the hell is  _Jack_!?"

Jack had guns. Jack always had guns. Jack was clever enough to know that he couldn't trust the Doctor to keep him safe. Jack would get out of this alive.

Think. Think. Think. It was hard to think when he was so damn hungry.

"Doctor," Donna grabbed his wrist and dropped her voice to a low whisper meant only for him. "How long have we got?"

How long had it been? Time suddenly felt like it was racing by so quickly that he had lost track. Six minutes? Five? He chose not to answer the question and instead started thinking of another plan. His eyes were quickly scanning the area for anything that could help. Some of the ruined buildings may have had basements, which may have returned to the surface in another area. The troops behind the wall were geared up and armed. That kind of organization, preparedness, and speed suggested professionals, maybe military. They'd probably been dropped off. Maybe their ship was nearby? Building designs suggested that they weren't in a residential area; maybe there was ground transport for goods?

"Doctor," Harry slurred quietly.

"Not now!" he shouted.

"Ganbri."

"You don't get to do that yet," he growled quietly. The growl continued in his mind, growing louder and more feral. It mixed with all the other sounds bombarding him and then slowly began to eat them up. Bit by bit, every sound slipped away into nothingness behind that savage snarl and it made him feel better. But oh, so very  _hungry_.

"Doctor!"

Donna had hit him in the shoulder and he turned on her so quickly that several of Alreesh leapt to their feet and bared their teeth. It made him wonder what his face looked like. But Donna didn't step back or flinch. She just looked at him with a sudden hurt in her eyes.

This was a stressful situation, yes, he should definitely feel stressed. But how did he get so  _angry_ without even noticing? He realized quite suddenly that he hadn't felt this afraid or threatened in eight years and, during that last time, he had created a very intimate telepathic relationship with a being that did nothing but inspire fear, kill, and feed. That deep, heart-pounding fear and primal protectiveness was the foundation stone of that relationship.

It was the link.

Donna didn't give him time to apologize. "Ganbri's gone."

His stomach dropped several inches and his eyes desperately scanned the group. Donna, Harry, Guin-Po, and six other Alreesh in total. His stomach dropped a few more inches.

"So is Nista."


	5. Ganbri

He hadn't even had to ask. Ganbri listened to the list of ingredients given and looked at the tower to judge the distance. When he glanced at Da'in-Nuek, a golden gleam stared back, daring him. The other boy was definitely game.

There was no time to waste. They had to leave immediately, before Banni regained his composure and Donna stopped looking so worried. Judging by Banni's current state of panic, Ganbri was sure that Tokrah didn't have long before the poison took him.

Without a word spoken between them—without Ganbri even reaching out with telepathy—Da'in turned and ran towards the tower. Ganbri followed as silently as he could, hoping no one would notice them until they had gained some distance.

Da'in was very small and lean, making it easy for him to run closely to the ground and hide behind small objects along the way. It was a little harder for Ganbri, being significantly bigger and rather less practised at that sort of thing. He also had the disadvantage of wearing a bright blue T-shirt and jeans, whereas Da'in's matted and dirty brown fur blended well with the torn-up ground between chunks of broken white stone. Ganbri quickly pulled his T-shirt over his head and cast it aside. His undershirt was grey, which he wasn't sure would help much, but it couldn't hurt, right?

The tower was getting closer, and Ganbri caught himself grinning. There was something exciting about this. Something free and fun in the way that his legs moved without reserve, his lungs breathed like simple oxygen was the sweetest thing in the whole universe, and his hearts pumped like their song was ending and they wanted to go out with a bang. This was not like playing football or running track. This was not like snowboarding or riding a roller coaster. All he was doing was running, and yet somehow it wasn't like anything else he'd done before.

It was better.

With Da'in's guidance, they danced and skirted around the broken ground, avoiding the groups of fighting men in the street. Armed or not, anyone they passed was dangerous and it seemed that Da'in preferred to stay out of their sight, but that didn't mean he hesitated when they had no other choice.

A soldier stumbled out in front of them and they had no time to hide before he saw them. Ganbri came to a screeching halt, frantically looking for something to duck behind, but Da'in charged ahead at the dazed warrior. He was Gurani, with a black coating of armour added to his chitinous plates; Da'in's solution to the problem was simple logic. He leapt up, surprising the soldier and reaching his head before the poor man even had time to react. His legs wrapped tightly around the Gurani's thin neck, holding him in place while the soldier gripped handfuls of fur and tried to pull him off. In a simple second, Da'in had managed to pull off the Gurani's helmet and slam it back down on his head. The Gurani stumbled, with Da'in still attached to him, and took a second blow. Then he fell.

Da'in rolled with the fall, releasing the Gurani's neck, and was already on his feet when the soldier thumped heavily on the ground.

"Is he dead!?" Ganbri shouted in disbelief.

"If my teeth were longer," the other boy answered with an annoyed shrug. He hit the soldier a third time, just to be sure he stayed down, then bent down and pulled a loose scale of chitin from the soldier's face. "Gurani chitin," he offered as explanation, placing the scale between his teeth to hold and running off again without another word.

Ganbri ran too, staring down at the fallen soldier as he passed. He  _thought_  he saw the man breathing, but it was hard to say. Da'in had been so fast in taking down a man more than twice his size that Ganbri might have missed it if he blinked. He couldn't help wondering why his father hadn't simply done something like that when they got trapped. Maybe he didn't know how?

A few more meters of running brought them to the base of the tower. The doors were made of some kind of shining white gem, almost like quartz, though they moved weightlessly when Ganbri pushed on them.

The walls inside the building were carved from gem-like stone, much like the entrance doors, except they varied through a rainbow of colours. The lobby was large and round, with at least a dozen doorways leading off of it. Da'in slinked through the doorway ahead of him, keeping to the walls and peering around every corner he came to. Ganbri felt a bit stupid for not doing the same thing so he imitated the other boy, taking the other side of the lobby. He wasn't sure what he would do if he did see someone though. He was certain he couldn't jump as high as Da'in and, even if he could, he was also pretty sure that he wouldn't know what to do after that.

"Which room?" Da'in asked.

"I don't know," he answered, suddenly feeling a bit panicked. "Just one that looks like a lab."

"I don't know what that is!" Da'in snapped, baring his teeth.

Ganbri thought for a second, remembering that Da'in's species were treated as food instead of people. He knew that animals on Earth, especially livestock, were given all sorts of drugs—antibiotics, hormones, and that sort of thing. "Did they ever take you to a special room and stick you with sharp things, like those darts? It might have made you feel funny or sick afterwards."

Da'in bared his teeth again, his fur standing up a little. "Yes," he hissed. "They hurt. I don't like them."

"It will look kind of like the room they took you to."

Dain suddenly stopped. "Oh," he said, looking back and pointing at a hallway he had just looked down. "Then it's that way."

Da'in was right. Once Ganbri hurried to the hallway to get a good look down it, he spotted the lab. The door was propped open by some kind of plastic container, probably dropped by an employee rushing to evacuate after the first bomb hit, and the inside of the room was strewn with dropped or knocked over items. He was certain that this room must have been immaculately organized before the first explosion, but it all went south when whoever worked there hurriedly gathered whatever they took and ran without further thought. Tokrah told him once that fear breeds chaos, and chaos exposes every man as a fool or fighter. He had a feeling that this mess was the work of fools.

He stole a glance at Da'in as they both raided the lab's stores. Da'in was afraid. That had been obvious from the moment Ganbri saw him. Those yellow eyes of his were constantly looking for danger and it was obvious from Da'in's expertise at keeping them safe during their run that he was very used to hiding. Da'in had been absolutely terrified for every single moment that had spent together so far.

But Da'in-Nuek was definitely not a fool.

Though he obviously wasn't familiar with the things they were looking for. The boy was grabbing random ingredients and placing them on the center table for Ganbri's inspection. So far, he had cleaning products, a decorative plant, some bottles of different acids, and a jar of thick grey slime.

No matter, Ganbri thought as he pulled a jar of calcium powder from a shelf. As long as Da'in kept him alive, he could handle these parts.

"Mint!" Da'in suddenly shouted. "I know what mint is! This smells like mint. Is it mint?" He said it all very quickly, popping up beside Ganbri and shoving a tiny bottle with the lid open close to his face. The smell was quite strong and a look at the label proved that it was a mint extract.

"That's it," Ganbri answered.

Da'in simply grinned, clearly proud of himself, and screwed the lid back on. Ganbri opened a refrigeration unit in search of insulin while the Alreesh dug out a bag to put their gathered ingredients in. The fridge offered up the needed insulin and Ganbri added it to the collection.

"Look for a liquid!" Ganbri shouted over his shoulder. "But  _don't_  start opening more bottles and smelling them! Some of this stuff can make you sick."

Da'in swept away the random items he had gathered with his arm and started putting bottles of random liquids there instead. Ganbri exhausted the cupboards he was looking through and rushed over the stash on the table. They were pushing for time, he knew. It had only been a few minutes, but his Banni's behaviour had clearly shown that a few minutes might be all they had.

"What's your name?" Da'in asked.

Ganbri didn't really hear him, frantically picking up bottles to check the labels. "What?"

"I said, what's your name?"

"Uh . . ." He actually had to think about it, distracted as he was, and suddenly felt very stupid again. He didn't like that a boy so much smaller and younger than him could make him feel stupid. "Ganbri," he finally managed.

"Is the sick man yours?"

"Yes," he answered, then suddenly realized he'd picked up the correct bottle. " _Yes_!"

He shoved the bottle in the bag and looked around. They still needed gunpowder. He hadn't seen gunpowder anywhere, nor could he smell any. He couldn't even smell the remains of gunpowder from days past. There wasn't any here or, at least if there was, they didn't have time to look for it.

"Just remember, Ganbri," Da'in said in a suddenly serious tone. "We have to keep ourselves alive first. If he dies, now is not the time for mourning."

He was about to tell the other boy to shut up. He was too busy thinking to worry about the correct time to mourn something that wasn't going to happen. But, before he could speak, he was hit by the sudden and unmistakable telepathic wave of his Tokrah.

Tokrah was in pain— _lots_  of pain. He couldn't breathe. He was falling. Ganbri could feel the tightness in his chest as though it were his own and knew immediately that one of Tokrah's hearts had stopped. One heart could keep him alive, but not for long.

"Jack has guns." The words slipped from his mouth as though they had come from someone else. It took him a second to realize it even meant anything. "Jack has guns!" he shouted in excitement. "Let's go!"

Da'in didn't wait to be told twice and, once again, the smaller boy fled at a much faster speed than Ganbri could have managed. He watched Da'in hit the end of the hallway first, noticed the way his knees bent to bring him low to the floor and his hands raised, then abruptly stopped.

"Da'in!"

He recognized his Banni's voice along with the anger in it. His hands reached down to pick Da'in up, hoisting the squirming child up onto his hip like he was some sort of toddler. Ganbri shared the feeling of indignation when Da'in loudly protested.

"You!" Banni bellowed the second he spotted Ganbri. "You are in  _so_  much trouble! What the  _hell_  were you thinking!?"

"What are you gonna do, send me to my room?" Ganbri answered irritably, reaching out both his hands as though he were offering the bag of ingredients in exchange for Da'in's freedom.

"Oh, you'll be lucky if you ever see sunlight again. Anything could have happened!"

Da'in was put back down on the floor, with a stern warning not to run off, and Banni took the bag from his hands. He watched the way Banni's eyes turned to look out the doorway to the chaos outside. He was still afraid, but Ganbri saw a sudden ease of some of that fear.

"No gunpowder," Ganbri said, following his father's eyes to the outside world. "Did Uncle Jack come back?"

"They're coming."

There was a desk in the middle of the entrance lobby and Banni dumped the contents of the bag out onto it. A crystalline bowl filled with decorative blue rocks was overturned onto the floor and Banni began hastily pouring things into it and smashing at them with the end of his screwdriver. There was something thick and black smeared along his right arm and his lip was bleeding slightly. Ganbri supposed he must have fallen into some mud or something on his way to find them.

The doors burst open loudly and four Alreesh carried Tokrah inside. Guin-Po came in after them, but Ganbri didn't see the other two Alreesh that were with them before. When Donna flew in behind them, she looked around the room, made a bee-line for Ganbri, and quickly pulled him into a crushing hug. She touched his hair and his face, searching him for injury, and yelling some nonsense about things being dangerous and how he could have been hurt.

He saw Da'in looking and suddenly felt terribly embarrassed. "I'm  _fine_ ," he said, pushing her fretting hands away. "Stop that. I'm not a little kid anymore."

"You're  _eight_ ," Banni snapped, not looking up from his work. "And don't disrespect your aunt."

He might have argued but he looked at Da'in again and saw disapproval. Donna was their Mother as far as the Alreesh were concerned, so he closed his mouth. It just didn't seem fair that he should instantly be scolded just because they were kids when they had just managed to do what all the adults couldn't. Banni never would have left the cover of those walls as long as Ganbri was there and Tokrah would have simply died. Besides, Da'in's aunt was there too and she was scolding  _him_.

Jack came in through the doors last. He had a lot of that thick black stuff all over him too.

"I think we're clear," Jack announced loudly, pushing the doors closed behind him. "Is everyone inside?"

"We are all here," Guin-Po answered.

Banni called out to Jack for his remaining bullets, still mixing furiously. Tokrah had been put down on the floor, leaning against a wall. He was going pale and he didn't speak, but his eyes were open and watching everyone. Ganbri reached out to him telepathically, but Tokrah kept him out, building a solid wall of force to keep everything inside and anyone else out.

Jack hurriedly emptied bullets from his guns and pulled a few more from a small pouch on his belt. After he popped the first one open with a knife, the Alreesh swarmed forward, grasping at bullets and using their teeth to pry them open.

After what seemed like far too long, Banni lifted the bowl and hurried over to Tokrah. The contents of the bowl looked like some kind of dark grey sludge with little shining bits of chitin floating in it, but at least it smelled minty. Tokrah didn't seem to care what it looked like and drank it down as quickly as he could, only spilling some of it in his hurry.

Banni waited a few seconds before grabbing Tokrah's arms and pulling him forward. Uncle Jack brought his hands together to make one fist and brought it down on Tokrah's back like a hammer. Four strikes and Tokrah cried out, his hands shooting to the sides and grabbing whoever was closest to him in a tight grip.

"Did it work?" Jack shouted, raising his two-handed fist again in preparation for another strike.

"Harry, look at me," Banni said quickly, putting his hands on Tokrah's face. "Harry?"

Tokrah coughed a couple of times and leaned back against the wall and, with a heavy sigh, gave them a thumbs-up. While the others breathed a sigh of relief, Ganbri met his Tokrah's eyes. He was already getting some colour back in his face when he shook his head and, with a very amused looking smile, mouthed one word.

_ Grounded. _


	6. Da'in

The pack had grown much smaller in such a short amount of time. Yesterday they were eleven. Now they were six. Kio-Manna, No'et-Jei, Gha'i-U'et, even little Senta-De'ok. Mother would be so unhappy to know that Senta hadn't made it.

If Mother were still with them, Da'in was certain that they would not have lost so many.

He took a breath and tried not to let that thought grip him too strongly. Mother was still feeding him her strength and he couldn't dishonour that with being weak. Now is not the time for mourning.

He'd kept a thin strip of flesh that Guin-Po had handed to him, twisted it tight to keep it from tearing, and tied it around one of his larger fangs. His teeth were still too small to help him protect himself very well, but at least it could provide a safe place for him to keep the skin where it was out of sight. Whenever things got a little too frightening, he could push his tongue against it to get a small taste of blood and Mother gave him comfort.

He wished that she were with them to give them guidance. These new people were strange in appearance and custom and Da'in had never known of any other species that could speak. Only their Mother had been introduced properly and none of the males seemed to have formal names, yet the males displayed acts of dominance in her presence, even against her.

The strangers were strong and intelligent, yes, but it wasn't until now that Da'in suspected they may be more. When the one they called Jack closed the doors behind himself and turned to the other, Da'in could see wounds in his neck deep enough to kill, or at the very least incapacitate him. Yet, even as he watched, the blood crept back inside and the torn skin stretched out like reaching fingers and knitted itself back together. There was not a mark left behind. Not a drop of blood. And it happened so fast that Da'in was sure that the others hadn't even noticed.

The one they called Doctor did little more than mix a foul-looking slurry of items, and yet he brought a dead man back to his feet. After the same poison that felled one of their own had coursed through his veins, Harry stood with fire in his eyes and eagerness in his muscles. These bizarre, fangless creatures used some kind of sorcery to survive.

He saw uncertainty in the eyes of his people around him, but Da'in did not understand it. He was not afraid of the strangers or their magic.

He wanted to learn.

"I was trying to get here before," the Doctor was speaking very quickly. "The tower is equipped with communication systems. They're observing the stars and planets, talking to their satellites and ships, gathering information."

"We didn't come here for an astronomy lesson!" cried out their new Mother, Donna-Sylvia.

"He wants to call for help," Harry offered quietly.

"If I can get the word out that a war has started on this planet with an innocent party caught in the middle, I might be able to get evacuation support," the Doctor continued, speaking faster and louder with every word. "Don't you see? The Alreesh are native to this planet and everyone here thinks they're just animals. The universe doesn't know that they're a people yet. If I can just get the word out that they are facing possible extinction, I can save them!"

"But evacuation will take them away from their home," Donna-Sylvia responded, looking around at the group. "That's not fair, is it?"

"Not fair, no, but they'll survive."

Harry turned to Guin-Po, still supporting himself with one hand against the wall. "What do you think's more important for your people, Gwen? A home planet or survival?"

He saw Guin's lips quiver in anger at the strange name he used, but she chose not to reprimand him this time. "We survive."

"See?" the Doctor said almost cheerfully. "Survival it is." He turned on his heels and hurried off. All they could really do was follow him.

They reached a part of the building where the floor suddenly rose, rising higher and higher in spiralling circles. They all climbed in haste but, even with Mother's strength fuelling their bodies, Da'in's muscles were beginning to tire. This was more activity than their shared cell had allowed him and his people in a long time and Mother's nourishment had been the richest they'd had in days. His lips drew back over his teeth in anger when he realized that he was weak.

He must not slow or falter. If he had any hope of these sorcerers teaching him their magic, he would have to prove his worth. Keep up, fight, protect the Mother. It would be an easier task if he at least had grown his teeth.

So, when his fellows positioned themselves to guard the entrances while the strangers went to work, Da'in knew which way he had go. Guin-Po caught his eye as he turned to go, and he froze. For a moment, he thought she would order him to stay and do his duty at the doors. He pushed his tongue against the moist and ragged flesh he'd tied around his tooth as he stared directly into his aunt's eyes and did not move a muscle. Guin said nothing and looked away, moving toward the entrance.

Da'in ran. The strangers had already begun to move through the building and their legs were long. He scrambled across the stone floor, his footing less sure on the smooth surface than it had been outside, but he didn't dare slow down, in case Guin change her mind.

He reached another area where the floor rose up, twisting through the air like a wriggling snake, rising higher and higher. He could hear the strangers, heavy and clumsy as they were, thumping their way up the stone snake and he followed them with silent steps. Up and up they went. Da'in's legs were beginning to ache and tire. His head was beginning to hurt with the excess of light he had been exposed to.

When they were still free, his mother would carry him when he grew tired, always reminding him that one day he would be too big to carry. He was not yet too big, but he didn't suppose anyone would carry him when he was tired anymore. It didn't matter. Now was not the time.

After what felt like far too long and his legs were burning with pain, the stone levelled out again. The doorway was filled with a sheet of strange tendrils of dark purple hair instead of a door, preventing him from seeing or hearing what was on the other side. He made his best attempt to try to slip in through the side, flat against the wall so he wouldn't be noticed.

Jack stood guard on the other side and Da'in found himself looking straight into a small, dark tube that he knew meant a sharp bang and an instant death. He immediately tried to dart between the giant man's legs, but a strong hand caught him by the scruff of his neck and hauled him into the air.

"We've got a stalker!" the man proclaimed loudly.

Da'in panicked. He didn't know these people or their customs. What if he had just committed a grave offense by following uninvited? What if the strange purple curtain had been a part of their magic to forbid him from entering? He couldn't get his arms around, but he was able to twist his hips and plant his feet firmly against the man's arm and push.

He felt flesh ripping beneath the sharp claws on his toes and, with a howl, Jack half-dropped and half-threw him on the floor. It hurt.

There were several shouts and sudden movements from the others. Da'in twisted on the floor to get his feet underneath himself and bolted, dashing between legs and around objects until he spotted a deep space beneath a large machine that looked big enough to fit in.

"We don't have time for this!" he heard Harry bark angrily as he wedged himself between the warm sheets of metal. "We've got work to do. Just leave him there."

Da'in shifted forward just enough to peer out from his hiding spot at the strangers. Harry and the Doctor were both working, attaching wires to each other and pushing dozens of buttons, not seeming the least bit bothered by the sudden intrusion. But the other three were exchanging uncomfortable glances and hesitating.

"Donna, I can modify these transmitters all I like but, if they don't know where they're transmitting  _to_ , there's not much point, is there?" the Doctor added, also sounding annoyed but lacking the sharp edge to his voice that the other one had.

Ganbri immediately jumped back into action and returned to the pile of papers that he had been flicking through. Donna-Sylvia looked back at Jack, flicked her head towards Da'in, and turned toward the machine between her, consulting the pages that Ganbri showed her before doing anything.

Da'in's heart sped up a little bit as he watched Jack's feet turn in his direction.

"Jack," the Doctor's voice said, low and quiet, with no threat to it and yet sounding rather intimidating.

"You told me to deal with anything that came through the door," Jack answered him. " _He_  came through the door."

The feet stepped closer, landing heavily on the floor. Nothing that fears death walks so heavily as these people did. Da'in had grown up knowing that silence meant survival. These strange creatures had no concept of it.

"Hey."

Jack's face appeared in front of him, looking into his tiny, enclosed space. He was smiling and made no effort to reach inside, but Da'in pushed himself against the wall anyway.

"Quite the kick you got there, kid."

Da'in instinctively raised his foot in front of himself. "Want to see it again?"

"No," the big man chuckled. "I think that was a pretty good demonstration." He sat down on the floor, sighing heavily as he did, and crossed his legs over each other, resting his elbows on his knees. The position would prevent Jack from reaching forward very far or getting up quickly, but it also made his body a solid wall blocking Da'in's only escape route.

Da'in lowered his foot slowly, unsure of what to do next. "I didn't mean to do anything wrong."

"No?"

"No."

"Well, that's good. We're on the same page then."

Jack smiled easily and there did not seem to be any traces of anger in his eyes. Perhaps if he was cautious, there was a way to correct his mistake.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I'll clean you."

"Nah. There's no need. Look," Jack answered, still smiling, and held out his arm with the scratched side facing up. Da'in watched as the skin slowly pulled itself back together before his very eyes. The blood crept back beneath the torn flesh as the wound sealed itself shut, leaving no trace of it.

"No harm done," Jack said, then dropped his voice to a whisper. "Our little secret, okay?"

Da'in carefully reached out his hand, hesitating and pulling it back again slightly to see how Jack would react. The man simply continued smiling and did not move except to move his arm forward another inch. Permission.

Da'in touched the skin and ran his fingers over a smooth area that had been torn and bleeding just seconds before. There was nothing—not even the rough surface of scar tissue. All he could feel was a very faint and fading warmth.

"Is it magic?" he couldn't help but ask, running his fingers along the site over and over again.

"Sort of. But not really."

"Can you teach me?" he blurted next without thinking.

"This? No. This one's a little too complicated to teach," Jack answered, not seeming the least bit insulted by the presumptuous question. "But I could teach you other ways that are just a little slower. I can teach you all kinds of things, if you want."

Da'in frowned, not sure if the man was lying or not. "Could I learn to talk to machines?" he asked, flicking his chin towards where the Doctor and Harry were working.

"Yeah."

"And to see words?"

Jack chuckled. "Reading? Yeah, I can teach that. I can teach how to write too. Uh, that means  _drawing_  the words."

The metal sheets on either side of him were getting warmer, the machines they encased whirring and humming with extra effort. It was getting uncomfortably hot.

"Why would you teach me to do those things?"

"Because you want to learn," Jack answered easily and without thought. "And trust me, kid, I've got plenty of time."

Da'in wasn't sure what to say or what to do next. He stared at the strange man called Jack and his sort-of-magical healing arm.

"Come on," Jack said after a moment. "We've got work to do." Jack got up off the floor and began to walk away without waiting for an answer. "Doctor, give him a job to do."

Da'in slowly crept out, watching as the Doctor continued his work without looking up. "I'm a little bit busy—"

"Just give him a bloody job!" Donna-Sylvia barked.

While these strangers behaved very oddly and seemed to regularly argue over whom to listen to, they definitely listened when their Mother shouted.

"Okay, okay, fine!"

The Doctor dropped what he was doing and walked quickly towards Da'in's hiding spot. For just a second, Da'in got nervous and wanted to rush back inside, but the Doctor seemed to notice and slowed his pace. He was a very, very tall man and the Doctor seemed to notice that too, so he crouched down low to the floor when he spoke so that they were of the same height.

"What's your name again?"

"Da'in-Nuek Nista." He had stammered a bit. Over his  _own name_. That was embarrassing.

"Hello, Da'in-Nuek Nista. I'm the Doctor," he smiled kindly while his words hurried along. "We're trying to get some help to get as many of your people somewhere safe as we can. Do you want to help?"

"Yes."

"Come on then." The Doctor held out his hand and, though he looked Da'in right in the eye, Da'in sensed no aggression from him. He took the Doctor's hand.

"Right! Here's what I want you to do," the Doctor said quickly, pulling Da'in fully out of his hiding spot with surprising strength. "See these two wires? I've had to connect them, but the connector doesn't fit quite right. That means they need to be held just right for it to work properly. There's going to be a picture of a person that'll show up over there, but it'll look weird and kind of wobbly. All you have to do is move the wires together, slowly and carefully, until the picture looks better, like this." The Doctor demonstrated, very gently twisting the wires in his fingers before holding them out for Da'in to take. "Think you can do that?"

Da'in nodded his head and accepted the wires, holding them just as carefully as the Doctor had.

"You've got him doing bunny-ear adjustments?" Donna-Sylvia asked loudly.

"You got a better idea?" the Doctor shot back.

Da'in looked curiously at the little wires in his fingers. Was it a bad thing to do bunny-ear adjustments? Were they wires or bunny-ears?

What were bunny-ears?

"We've got some action!" Jack announced. He was peering through the purple curtain and down the spiralling stone steps. "I don't know if they're here for us, but they're here."

"Why don't you go have a chat with them?" Harry suggested as he ducked down between the Doctor's legs and casually ripped a metal panel up from the floor as though it were made of nothing and pulled out another handful of wires. "I'm sure they wouldn't pay us any mind if you promised them some dinner and dancing."

"I wouldn't want to make you jealous," Jack answered with a cheery grin.

"We're ready!" Ganbri and Donna-Sylvia called together.

The Doctor muttered something under his breath, his tongue poking out between his teeth. Something sparked, and the Doctor quickly released the tangle of wires in his hands. "Done!"

Da'in looked nervously at his wires (or bunny-ears, apparently) and wondered if he was supposed to have achieved something by now. He hadn't seen a picture or a person anywhere near where the Doctor had indicated yet. He gave the wires a tentative twist and watched. Nothing happened.

"Ready!" Harry called a moment later. He slammed the metal panel back where he pulled it from and climbed to his feet.

"I think they're looking for us," Jack said to no one in particular, stepping back from the doorway and allowing the purple curtain to slip shut again.

"Alright, everybody shut up a minute," the Doctor ordered. He looked Da'in right in the eye and smiled. "You ready?"

Da'in held the wires up and nodded, shifting his weight a little nervously. He stared at the screen in anticipation.

"Here we go."

The Doctor pushed a button and the room fell silent. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the air filled with a noise like the wind, as though sand were being blown against the walls around them. Da'in didn't feel any wind.

The screen began to flicker and it took him a moment to remember that he had a job to do. No one seemed to notice the delay. He twisted the wires slowly and carefully, and his heart immediately swelled with pride as an image began to appear before him.

A woman slowly appeared, flickering and moving like a reflection in rippling water, but becoming clearer. Suddenly she was there, fully, as though she were not just an image but an actual person, standing in the room with them. She flickered slightly, but Da'in quickly learned how to hold and move the wires to keep her whole.

Magic! Just like that!

The woman had been speaking in a bored voice without looking up, giving some sort of instructions. When she did look up, she saw the Doctor, and froze. She stared at him, then moved her eyes slowly across everyone else in the room.

"Are—"

"I'm the Doctor."

The woman made an odd sound, a strange squeak somewhere between frightened and excited. "Doctor . . . I am Taria Glusbin, delegate—"

"Hello, Taria Glusbin!” the Doctor answered merrily. “I'm calling for evacuation assistance to Vikked 8 based on Article 22 of the Shadow Proclamation."

"At what location?"

"Planet wide. An entire, newly discovered species is at risk, caught in the crossfire between the Bahgites and the Gurani."

"Planet w—Doctor, what you ask is impossible."

"Oh, course it isn't. You just pass it along to the people in charge and when they try to say it's impossible let them know they'll have to answer to me for every life lost due to their incompetence."

"We can't just sweep an entire planet. We need locations—rendezvous points."

"Fine. No problem. That's easy. I'll set up a network, connecting this station to others and have them all transmit the same signal. There are your rendezvous points." The Doctor said it all with a wonderfully cheerful smile on his face, though there was something to his voice that sounded a little menacing. Da'in couldn't quite put his finger on what it was.

The woman hesitated. She spent a thoughtful moment looking at the Doctor's unnatural smile before lowering her eyes. "Of course. The law is clear."

"Thank you, Taria Glusbin!" the Doctor answered enthusiastically, his smile widening. "Lovely, all those little technicalities, aren't they?"

"There are other laws," the woman added, looking back up at him. Her eyes moved to Harry. "And they are just as clear. The Time Lord travelling with you—"

"Is under my protection," the Doctor interrupted. His voice had dropped dramatically in volume and pitch, his eyes darkened with sudden and unexpected anger.

"The law is clear, Doctor. I have no choice."

"No, you don't."

It was a threat. Da'in heard something in the Doctor's voice that he hadn't heard before—something that sounded entirely unnatural. It almost sounded as if, beneath his words, something was growling.

The Doctor suddenly stood up straight, the anger in his face vanishing instantly. He sniffed loudly and straightened his tie, stretching his neck as he did before making eye contact with the woman again.

"You'll have no choice because we'll be gone before you arrive," he said, keeping his voice friendly with a small amount of visible effort. "I'll set up the rendezvous. Just follow the signal."

The Doctor hit a button before the woman had a chance to respond and the image of her vanished without a trace. Da'in glanced at the faces of the others but everyone seemed calm. Maybe they hadn't heard the sound? Maybe they were used to it? He chose not to say anything.

"How we doing, Jack?" the Doctor asked, running his hands through his hair and adjusting his clothing again.

Jack had been looking through the curtain again and he brought his head inside to answer. "There's at least six Gurani down there. I don't think they know where we are yet, but it sounds like they're tearing the building apart. We don't have much time."

"We need to set up the network," Harry said quietly. "The signal is easy, but we have to find a way to get the Alreesh to the points as well."

"I know," the Doctor answered, rubbing his forehead with his hand and then turning back to work on the machine again. "I'll think of something. Let's just set up the network."

"Mu'atin will show them."

Several pairs of eyes turned towards Da'in and he felt a sudden urge to scurry back into his hiding hole. He thought he must have spoken out of turn to make them all look at him like that. All he could think to do to correct it was begin lifting his chin to expose his throat in submission.

"I've heard that before," Mother Donna-Sylvia said quickly. "Someone else said it."

"Gwen—"

" _Guin_!" the Doctor said with a sigh.

"Right," Harry shook his head. "She said it would show them the way. Dean—"

"Da'in!" the Doctor corrected, smacking the man lightly on his shoulder this time. "Honestly, Harry, that's so  _rude_."

Harry made an odd face. "Isn't that what I said?"

"It's Da'in.  _Da_ 'in. There's a little 'ah' sound in there before the 'een', you muppet," Donna-Sylvia shook her head, speaking as though she were scolding a child.

"That's what I said!"

"You keep calling him Dean!"

"That's his name!"

"Guys, remember that thing I said about the soldiers downstairs?" Jack added, beginning to sound a little nervous.

"When the light of Mu'atin shines, it will show them the way," Ganbri said loudly. "That's what she said. They'll follow the light."

"Light show it is, then." Harry cracked his knuckles and dropped to the floor again, ripping up panels and setting to work.

Da'in frowned. They didn't seem to understand what he had said.  _Mu'atin_  would show his people the way. There was no reason for them to create a light of their own. For all they knew, Mu'atin had a better, safer place to lead them to.

He would have told them so, but a loud crashing sound stole his attention. Somewhere beneath them, the soldiers were wreaking havoc. There was a nervous silence for a moment while Harry and the Doctor continued to work.

"Doctor," Jack said quietly after peeking past the purple curtain once more. "There's smoke."


	7. Harry

"You have to go."

Harry looked up at the Doctor's words, momentarily forgetting about his work. The smell of smoke was drifting in through the curtain as Jack held it open and was making the others visibly nervous.

"All of you," the Doctor added. "Go. Get back to the TARDIS. I can finish this on my own."

Ganbri was already beginning to protest. Once upon a time, Donna would have argued too, but she was a mother now. With a look that expressed how torn she felt, she put her hands on Ganbri's shoulders and pulled him closer. Jack stayed in the doorway, gun at the ready, waiting to cover them as they went.

Harry waited a moment—just a short moment. The Doctor pretended to not notice him, but those brown eyes kept almost drifting in his direction. He chose not to explain himself.

"I'm not going anywhere without you."

"Let's not argue in front of our son," the Doctor answered calmly, eyes set with determination on his work. "The children need all the protection they—"

"That's why we need to stay together," Harry interrupted firmly.

The Doctor shook his head stubbornly. "Donna, Jack, get the kids out of here. I'll follow as soon as I have the beacon lit."

Jack hesitated, glancing back and forth between the two Time Lords. "Doctor . . ."

"That smoke is getting thicker in here, Captain."

Harry stepped forward and gripped his husband by the arm—hard—and forced him to look him in the eye. The Doctor would be furious with him for behaving such a way in front Ganbri, but he didn't care. Something was wrong and, the moment the Doctor's eyes met his own, he knew exactly what it was.

He remembered that look. It was a mix of fear and anger and desperation. And there, in the corners and the shadows of a person's eyes that lets you  _see_  them, there was something else.

Somewhere, in the depths of the TARDIS, a Beast was awakening.

"I can't go out there," the Doctor said quietly, his eyes darting nervously towards Ganbri. "Harry, I can't."

He'd kill them. The Doctor was frightened and felt that his family was being threatened and it had sparked to life a very old connection he had created the last time he felt such a way. This time, the Beast was locked away where it would not be able to do the Doctor's killing for him, but that wouldn't stop the need. It wouldn't sate the hunger.

If the Doctor came with them as a group, it was possible that everything would be fine. It was also possible that they would run into the soldiers downstairs, or more outside, and the Beast's long-starved fury would lash out. The Doctor couldn't bear the thought of killing anyone at all. The thought of their son witnessing him do so was damn near enough to break his heart.

Harry looked into his husband's eyes, urgently trying to convey the meaning behind his words without entering the Doctor's corrupted mind. "I'll do what you want."

For a moment, he worried that he wasn't understood, but then a look of surprise mixed with the faintest flicker of relief appeared on the Doctor's face. And he whispered, "Thank you, Master."

 _Master_. The name of a man who wore the guilt of countless deaths, and wore them well. It was as good as permission.

"Okay," Harry said loudly, turning to face the rest of the group and striding purposefully towards the door. "Rule one: ladies and kids stay behind the immortal guy. Donna, don't let them out of your sight. You stay behind this curtain for thirty seconds after I leave.  _Thirty seconds_! Then you run. Find a way out. Find somewhere safe and wait for us. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Jack answered immediately.

Ganbri hesitated, but eventually gave a salute. "Yes, sir."

Dean looked at the rest of the group with a curious face before answering enthusiastically, "Yes, sir!"

Donna simply nodded her head.

Harry took a deep breath and mentally prepared himself. "Don't forget that the building is on fire, Doctor. Don't be long." Then he glanced at Jack, every muscle in his body tensing in anticipation, and spoke quietly. "Thirty seconds."

Then he ran.

The fire was not far from the long, winding staircase but the use of stone in the architecture instead of something more flammable was preventing it from spreading anywhere quickly. The others should be able to escape easily enough. It was the soldiers he was worried about.

He found them quickly enough, making all the racket they were as they tore apart the room they were in. There were six of them, armed and armoured and not looking like they were in the mood for a friendly chat.

His first option for dealing with the situation was the fastest, easiest, and the most likely to keep the others safe all rolled up into a pretty little package. His second option would be slow, more difficult, and had the potential to fail and send the soldiers straight at his family. Against all instincts, he went with option two.

He hurried to the room next to the occupied one, picked up the heaviest thing he could easily lift, and threw it hard against the wall. The noise from the soldiers paused for a second. While they listened, Harry nudged a small glass container off of a desk and let it shatter on the floor, pulled the door of a storage locker slightly ajar, then hurried back to the doorway. He flattened himself against the wall beside it with only a second or two to spare before the Gurani soldier appeared.

The slightly swaying locker door was enough to distract the soldier as he came in to give Harry the split-second advantage he needed. He grabbed the barrel of the soldier's gun as it came through the door and simultaneously delivered a swift blow to the soft spot in his neck where two separate chitin plates met.

Before the soldier even knew what had happened, he was uselessly gasping for air with a gun to his head while being in a lock to act as a living shield.

"I don't want to kill you," Harry hissed in the Gurani's ear while his throat recovered from the shock of the blow. "But I will. Trust me on that. I don't have a stake in this fight; I'm just in the wrong place at the wrong time. All I want is to leave here, so do exactly as I say, and everyone walks away healthy and free. Understand?"

The Gurani gasped but couldn't quite yet speak. Harry settled for a frantic nod.

The chitin on the back of the soldier's neck was thin and supple, appearing black but reflecting blues and greens vividly in the light. That meant he was still very young and probably not experienced enough as a soldier to get out of his current situation successfully. His mind also radiated with fear and helplessness.

Harry loved it when he got lucky.

"When you can talk, tell them that the room is clear."

The Gurani nodded and, after another ten seconds or so, called out to his team. There were a few sounds of acknowledgement and the noise of ransacking continued but Harry kept the soldier in front of him just to be safe.

They scuttled down the hallway outside the room together backwards, Harry always keeping the young Gurani's body between himself and the seemingly clueless other soldiers. He found a room a few doors down the hallway with a heavy metal door and a keypad on the outside—a sealable lab. Perfect.

The Gurani soldier's chitin plates were clicking together faintly as they entered the room. The poor boy must have been frightened by now. Harry calmed his mind with a swift application of the butt of his gun to the back of neck. The soldier hit the floor in a loose, clicking pile. Next, he fired the gun into a wall a couple of times and dashed across the hallway into another room.

It was only a couple of seconds before the other Gurani were swarming into the lab, but they were noisy and all went in together without leaving a guard at the door. Apparently, none of them were particularly experienced and Harry figured that they were lucky to receive such a lesson without paying for it with their lives.

The Gurani shouted in surprise and a couple of them fired off shots as the lab door sealed with a loud hiss. The stone walls of the building would prevent the fire from spreading quickly, if it spread at all, and they would work out how to unlock the door eventually. He could hear them pounding on the door and shouting in protest as he walked away, wondering if they had even the faintest idea of what a favour he had just done them.

A favour he would not be able to give to the next soldier who stepped in front of them.

This one was either slow or smart, considering that he had stayed back while the others all charged into the same room. Harry couldn't afford the time to find out which. They both raised their guns at the same time and, if Harry hadn't had the sense to begin moving evasively at the same time, he would surely have died. The Gurani struggled to predict his movements as he fired, while Harry's gun simply refused to obey whenever it was pointed at the soldier. There must have been a transmitting device in the armour to prevent friendly fire or, in this case, allow an enemy to use the Gurani's own weapons against them.

He threw the gun at the soldier's face instead. It surprised him enough to send the barrel of his gun pointing at the ceiling for a second, while he stumbled back, and a second was generally all Harry needed.

Gurani may be covered in protective plates, but they were slender and light. When Harry rammed the soldier's body with his full weight, it was more than enough to slam him into the wall hard enough to daze him. The armour provided something to grip so that Harry could throw him face-first to the floor next. After that, it was a simple matter of slipping his knife between the chitin plates at the back of the neck.

A few panicked clicks and then a slow, quiet hiss brought the short struggle to an end.

Harry would have preferred if he could report to his husband that all was done without taking any life at all, but one death was better than the alternative. Harry had seen what was left in the Doctor's wake when he walked with the Beast once before, and no one ever wanted to see it again.

He felt old as he climbed to his feet. He was breathing heavily, and he decided to blame that on the thin cloud of smoke that had been slowly filling the air, rather than to a couple minutes of activity. His body was beginning to ache, and he chose to blame that on the dose of poison he received earlier. Bruises were announcing their arrival all over, mostly on his arms, from his up close and personal style of dealing with threats. The smell of blood told him that it wasn't sweat he felt creeping down his cheek, but he had no memory of when he had cut it.

Actually . . .

The contents of his stomach emerged energetically and splattered the floor with an awful lot of unpleasant noise. Muscles cramped and spasmed and his lungs complained of the abuse they'd suffered. As Harry caught his breath, supporting himself against the wall with one hand, he realized that the Doctor may have been able to save his life from a poisoned dart, but that didn't mean he was magically cured of all its effects. His body was firmly reminding him that it almost died not even an hour ago and that it needed to recover.

His body had tried to order him around like that before—several of them had, in fact. Eventually it would have to simply accept that it couldn't bully him into submission with symptoms. He would rest and recover when there wasn't any work left to be done.

It took him a couple minutes longer than he would have liked, but he regained his composure. He wiped away the sweat that had gathered on his forehead and hurried down the hallway, only a little slower than before.

His mind reached out for his son and quickly found him, outside and mostly calm. He reached for the Doctor next and found that he was just descending the winding staircase from the lab, so he waited at the bottom. When the Doctor saw him, there was a quick flash of relief on his face, quickly replaced by a concerned scowl.

"I'll live," Harry said irritably.

The Doctor said nothing, letting his eyes travel over Harry's body for an inspecting sweep instead. He hurriedly wiped his hands on his trousers in case there was any blood on them.

"I killed one," he admitted quickly. "Just one."

There was a short pause in which the Doctor looked him over again. Harry noticed that those brown eyes lingered on his hands. Harry sighed, half expecting an accusation of sorts, but then he looked down. His hand was glowing. It wasn't the bright light of panic he produced when he was really in trouble, but a dim, golden glow was enough to tell him that he was out for the rest of the game.

"Come on," the Doctor said quietly, clapping him on the shoulder and turning toward the door. "Better get you back to the TARDIS."

He hadn't realized how polluted with smoke the air had become until they stepped outside. The fresh air felt like a splash of cold water on his face and he stood a little straighter, but his skin kept glowing. It was noticed.

Several pairs of eerily wide and attentive Alreesh eyes watched him with perfect stillness as they approached the rest of the group. One of them actually released a sort of panicked growl when Ganbri rushed forward to meet them, his own skin erupting with sympathetic light. The force behind such an undersized body running into him was startling and, in his current state, nearly knocked him over.

"I'm fine," he muttered, giving Ganbri a quick squeeze before gently pushing him back.

The Doctor barked out some quick instructions, followed by a short squabble between him and Gwen. Harry didn't care to join the argument. The Alreesh were spooked, and not by the war—they were superstitious folk, it seemed—and the living light show was apparently a little too much for them to handle. Gwen wanted to part ways now, but she didn't feel that Mother Donna had held up her end of the bargain. The Alreesh people would not be coming.

"That is not Mu'atin," Gwen snarled, gesturing the beacon. "My people won't come to it. This does not return us to them."

"You said a light; I gave you a light!" the Doctor argued.

"I did not ask for a light! Mu'atin will come when it is time. I asked you to return me to my people!"

While the two argued, Harry glanced at the other Alreesh. Most of them were listening to the argument on edge, shifting their weight on their feet in preparation for sudden movement. All of them, except Dean. De'an. Daheen. Whatever.

Harry had almost forgotten that the shabby looking little runt was the only reason they didn't immediately run to the TARDIS and get the hell out when the first bomb went off. Somewhere along the stream of time, that little kid was supposed to grow up and play a part in saving all of their asses. And, at that moment, he was staring up at the beacon.

Harry let a tendril of his mind drift over to him and reach out. That tiny mind was racing with a thousand thoughts all at once, pieces shifting and locking together with finality.

A pair of golden eyes shifted to look straight at him, as though Dean had felt Harry's telepathic presence. "Are you tired?" the child asked.

Harry smirked. "Yeah. A little."

Dean's head tilted slightly to one side and his eyes trailed from the blood on Harry's cheek down to the golden glow on his hands. "Are you often tired?"

Harry nodded. "And hungry. And sore. And sometimes just downright cranky."

"Right." Dean looked back up at the beacon again. His tongue pressed up against the inside of his lip, running along the teeth that hid under there, and he bounced on his heels a couple of times, stopping when he had reached his final decision. Then he simply muttered "Okay," and took off running.

Harry gave him a couple of seconds, admiring the kid's bravery, before he alerted anyone else. "Jack," he said loudly. "Dean's gone back inside. Go help him, please."

Heads whipped around in confusion, eyes frantically searching for the missing child. The Doctor's eyes widened and his mouth opened for what Harry was sure would be an awful lot of loud nonsense, so he interrupted.

"Run," Harry told him. "Go get the TARDIS. I want to leave the second they get back. Gwen, the rest of us will stay with you until your light of Mu'atin appears."

The Doctor's frown deepened. "Harry—"

"I'm in no fit state to run across a battlefield and survive," Harry interrupted him again. "You're faster on your own. Just go get the TARDIS and come pick us up."

There was a moment's hesitation, followed by a raised index finger of warning at the group in general. "Nobody wander off! I  _mean it_  this time!" Then he was gone.

Next, Gwen's eyes turned on him, flashing with anger. "I hope you can explain all this," she hissed at him. "Where is my nephew gone?"

Harry smiled at her and said the closest thing to the truth that he could think of. "He's gone to summon your god."


	8. Da'in

Da'in heard someone chasing after him and his first instinct was to run faster. However, when he glanced over his shoulder, he saw that Jack's eyes were looking forward and scanning the area rather than being locked on Da'in. The smoke inside had grown thicker and he kept as low to the floor as possible, though it didn't seem to bother Jack too much.

He hadn't really expected backup, but it certainly felt nice. Besides, it was highly unlikely that he would manage his task without help.

"If you showed me how to use your weapon, I wouldn't need protection," Da'in said as they began climbing the winding path to the lab.

"Sorry, kid. There's no way in hell I'm giving you a gun."

It was worth a try.

Up and up and up. Da'in pushed himself to move faster, despite the protest in his exhausted legs, and yet Jack always kept pace. He breathed a little harder but seemed otherwise fine with the speed. When they reached the top and Jack still seemed perfectly alert and energetic, Da'in couldn't help but bare his teeth at the man.

"Is it your magic that keeps you from tiring?"

"Oh yeah," the man answered with a grin. "A magical potion called coffee and whiskey. Chug a mug of that in the morning and you're set for the day. I'll show you when you're older."

Da'in tilted his head to the side and regarded the man curiously. He suspected from Jack's tone that there was some sort of joke that he didn't understand.

"So, what are we doing?" Jack asked.

Da'in forgot about what coffee might be and returned his attentions to the task at hand. "I need to make a picture," he explained quickly. "Like that woman the Doctor was talking to."

"You mean a hologram?"

"If that is what that woman's picture was, then yes," he answered in annoyance. When he approached the devices, covered in all their lights and buttons and strange symbols, he was immensely grateful that someone had followed him. For some reason he had assumed that, because he saw the Doctor working at this spot, he would somehow just  _know_  what to do. It was only now that he was looking at it that he realized he didn't have the faintest clue.

"My people aren't looking for  _a_  light. They're looking for  _the_  light."

"The light of Mu'atin, I know. How's it different than any other light?"

"Mu'atin's light isn't just a light. It's  _her_  light," he turned and saw the confusion on the big man's face. "They mean the light she watches us with," he added, putting a finger on his own face.

"Eyes," Jack said, finally looking as though he understood. "They're expecting to see an eye?"

"Yes," Da'in answered. "That light outside means nothing."

"Why didn't you just tell the Doctor that when he was setting up the beacon?"

Da'in pushed his tongue against the flesh in his teeth and answered quietly, "Because I thought that Mu'atin would appear."

Jack stared at him for a moment, in such a way that Da'in began to feel uncomfortable and looked away. "Sorry, kid," he said. "That's tough."

Part of Da'in felt that he had to justify himself, to explain how he had come to this point, but all he could do was nod. He was sure Jack understood anyway.

Da'in had spent his life hearing the tales of the gods and of all the things that were promised. His mother had told him that the gods would one day set them free and the light of Mu'atin would guide their people.

Guin-Po seemed to think that these strangers from another world were just annoying and disrespectful pests that got in the way. Her pride had stopped her from seeing what had been put in front of her, while Da'in shameless desire to survive forced him to see it.

The strangers  _were_  the gods. Or at least, as close as they were going to get.

The only thing that he knew of that distinguished a god from an ordinary person was the ability to perform magic and miracles, and he had seen the strangers all use magic in one form or another. Even more, Jack had promised that the magic could be taught. If  _anyone_  could learn magic, then  _anyone_  could be a god.

Including Da'in.

It wasn't until he watched the one they called Harry and that pointless, empty light in the sky that he knew what he had to do. Even as Harry glowed like the sun, spilling magic out of him as though he were simply breathing, he  _bled_. He was tired, he was hungry, and, apparently, he was cranky.

Harry was only a man.

These strangers hadn't drifted forward from mist and nothingness and waved omnipotent hands to free the people. They stumbled in like lost children. They screamed and fumbled and got scared and regularly forgot their manners. But  _they_  were the ones who had made them free, and Mu'atin's light had yet to appear.

Jack had already begun working, pushing buttons and making adjustments with dizzying speeds.

"Jack," Da'in said, finding it very hard to speak all of a sudden. "Will you promise that you will teach me magic?"

Jack paused his work and looked down at Da'in. There was a sad look in his eyes, despite the half smile on his mouth. "I promise, I'll teach you everything I can."

Da'in nodded and his mind was made up. "Then today is my first day."

Today he would commit great blasphemy and make himself a god in the eyes of those who still believed that there was such a thing. If Mu'atin had a problem with it, she could show up herself to scold him.

Mother would be proud.

"Let's make some magic then," Jack said happily, rubbing his hands together. "I'll need you to look into this little thing here and I can project the image into the sky."

Da'in stepped up and gazed into the small black circle that Jack had indicated. It didn't look particularly special, Jack didn't seem particularly amazed, and the room didn't feel particularly solemn, but Da'in felt as though the entire world changed in that moment. In this one instant, he was turning his back on everything he had been taught and his future with his own people.

After a few seconds, there was a quiet clicking sound, and Jack told him he was finished. Just like that. His people saved, history changed, with nothing but a few buttons pushed and a few seconds staring at nothing. If he had known such things were so easy, he would have tried it before.

"This is what they'll see," Jack said, pointing across the room. Where there had been a woman stood earlier that day, now there floated a gleaming, golden eye. It stared into the room, so large and piercing, that Da'in felt a need to both run away and move towards it at once. Until he remembered that it was his own eye.

The people wouldn't know that though. Seeing that in the sky would leave no question in their minds that they were meant to follow it.

_Mu'atin sees all and her light illuminates the world._

Da'in couldn't help but smirk at it and raise his chin in mock respect.

"It will work now," Da'in said after a moment.

"Got it," Jack hastily pushed a few more buttons and the eye in the room vanished. "Eye's in the sky. Let's go!"

Suddenly they were running back down the winding path again—leaving and never planning to return. Part of Da'in felt like it was uncomfortably hasty to go now. He felt like there had to be some kind of ritual or observation to commemorate what had just happened. It felt so very important. But, then again, all they'd really done was put a picture in the sky. He felt strangely empty and yet bursting with purpose. He was so distracted by the confusion of it that he didn't even notice the soldiers at the bottom of the steps.

Jack wordlessly scooped Da'in up in his arms and spun, putting himself between Da'in and the enemy. Da'in felt the heavy impacts thudding dully against him through Jack's body, and then the arms holding him went limp. Da'in tumbled to the floor and barely managed to roll out of the way before Jack's body landed on him. Thick red blood splattered the ground and Jack laid there with empty eyes.

Da'in scrambled for cover, moving quickly in random patterns so that the soldiers couldn't get a shot. "Jack!" he shouted, panicking as he looked for somewhere he could hide. The smoke was making him cough. "Jack, get up!"

One of the Gurani soldiers kicked Jack's body onto his back and gazed down at him, then chattered at the others in a series of clicking noises. Da'in had no way of knowing what they were saying, but suddenly they began to spread out and look around.

Da'in found a small space between a large stone column and the wall that he could easily fit into. It wasn't exactly perfect cover, but at least he could run out again if he had to. All he needed to do for now was wait until Jack's magic woke him up.

So he curled his knees in tight to his chest, trying and failing to slow his breathing so that it wasn't so loud—the only thing louder than that was his pounding heartbeat. He could feel his whole body trembling and the fear brought a sting to his eyes that threatened tears.

 _Be brave_ , he reminded himself sternly. This was what Mother had fed him for. But it was a lot easier to tell himself something than it was to change the way he felt, and right now he felt terrified. Any second, one of those soldiers was going to find him, and when they did to him what they had done to Jack, he would not be getting up.

A small sound escaped his mouth without permission, and it was embarrassingly high-pitched and squeaky sounding. He clapped his hands over his mouth to stop it, pushing his tongue to his mother's flesh for strength, but it was too late. One of the soldiers had heard it and was coming towards him now. Some kind of deep growl joined his pitiful sounds as the fear built, higher and higher, and tears spilled freely from his eyes. He could barely breathe, his hands were clasped so hard against his mouth, and yet he could not stop the whimpering.

The growl grew louder as the soldier's steps grew closer, until the sound of it and the fear were so overwhelming that Da'in did not think he would be able to move. And then, the world erupted with noise.

The entrance doors at the far side of the room burst open so loudly that Da'in was sure they had been torn from the walls, and a roar filled the room so loud that the air itself shook.

Da'in threw his arms around the column, clinging to it as if he expected the ground to give way and shouted in fear. "Jack!"

Then the screaming started. He could hear the sharp, barking sounds of the soldiers' weapons and the wet thudding sound of their impact and, over it all, he heard them screaming. One at a time, their shouts of panic devolved into the high-pitched wails of a wounded animal. And, one at a time, they grew quiet.

It felt like forever, but Da'in later supposed it had only been a minute or so, before he felt Jack's strong arms wrap around him again. "I got you!" the big man shouted. "Keep your eyes closed! You hear me? Don't open your eyes!"

Da'in opened his eyes.

He looked back over Jack's shoulder as he was carried to the exit and he almost didn't believe what he saw. The monster was bigger than any animal he'd ever seen, and its skin rippled with coloured stripes of purple and red. Soldiers, or at least pieces of them, were strewn about the floor and a few ragged straps hung from the creature's jaws. He could hear it, even when its mouth didn't move—a sound that was so absolute and terrifying that it felt like a force of nature in itself.

And the monster looked at him. He stared into its shining black eyes for what felt like forever and sensed the enormous power behind it. It reminded him of Mother.

Suddenly he wasn't afraid of it anymore, and the Beast looked away.

Just as the monster turned back to its prey, Da'in and Jack emerged back into the sunlight. He slipped into a sort of shock, hearing nothing but pressing silence and feeling nothing but the jarring impact of Jack's heavy steps. He was being carried, he realized.

His eyes caught upon the Doctor's face as they ran past him and it looked like the Doctor didn't even see them. His eyes were distant and his face was distorted with some kind of terrible rage. Suddenly Da’in was shoved into someone else's arms and, when he watched the immortal man turn away and run back, the surreal detachment he'd been feeling vanished.

"Jack!" he shouted, kicking against whoever had taken him without bothering to see who it was. He didn't want Jack to leave him with someone else. He would feel safer in the middle of the fray with Jack than he felt out of it without him. Jack's magic was the strongest, that much was obvious, and Jack had carried him when he was afraid.

"Quiet now." The laboured breathing and hobbled step told Da'in that Harry was holding him before he even looked. "He'll be back in a second."

Da'in kicked and fussed some more but, even wounded, Harry was strong, and he did not let go. Harry kept saying things to calm him down but Da'in couldn't focus on the words. He kept trying to twist around and see past him and shouted in frustration when he couldn't.

The sun disappeared and the air grew cold and Da'in realized that they had entered some sort of building that he was certain had not been there before. Harry passed him off to someone else who held him for only a second before hurriedly putting him down on the floor.

He looked up to see Guin-Po and his fellow people behind her. The room they were in beeped and hummed with a hundred different noises and vibrated with power. He glanced around it, feeling strangely numb, and spotted Ganbri and Donna-Sylvia across the room, far away from the door where they could not see what was happening outside.

"Come on!" he heard Harry shouting behind him, back out through the door they had come in. "Jack, just grab him!"

"Did you see Mu'atin's light?" his aunt asked with whispered excitement. "Just as we knew it would come!"

Da'in nodded his head, avoided eye contact with Guin-Po, and swallowed. "You will be with your people soon."

There was a moment of silence in which Da'in feared his aunt would remind him of his responsibilities to his own kind, but the words never came. There was just silence. And it was with silence that she gently put her hand on top of his head and lingered for a moment, before she walked away from him. The others followed her towards the door, each of them pausing briefly to touch his head.

After the last had gone, he turned to look. The Doctor was back, looking much calmer than before though there was still some anger blazing in his eyes, and he was exchanging words with Guin-Po. Jack was looking around and had spotted him sitting on the floor.

"Kid," the man said simply as he stepped forward.

For all Da'in knew, Jack only wanted to check him for injury, but he scrambled up the man's body and clung to his neck before Jack had a chance to speak. Jack didn't say anything at all. And, for some reason, Da'in found himself trembling and making that odd squeaking sound again.

"We have to move everyone further in," Harry's voice muttered quietly from nearby. "He's going to bring it back inside."

"Okay," Jack answered in a near whisper.

Da'in didn't ask where they were going when Jack began to walk. He looked over Jack's shoulder and watched as his aunt and his people stepped back into the sunlight, knowing it would be the last time he'd ever see them. That was okay. The light of Mu'atin would guide them to safety.

Jack carried him through a couple of doors until they were in a room that felt warm and comfortable. Every one of the strangers was with them now except for the Doctor. Donna-Sylvia laid a large cloth across Da'in's back and it was so very soft that Da'in temporary released Jack's neck to pull it closer. It felt like Mother's hair when he laid next to her at night.

"Do you understand what I'm saying?" Harry said. Apparently, he'd been talking for a while and Da'in had only just noticed. "You might not ever see them again, Dean."

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Donna-Sylvia hissed at him. " _Really_ , Harry. His name is Da'in.  _Da_.  _In_."

His name was Da'in-Nuek Nista. Except for a moment ago when he had been Mu'atin. And now he felt like he was someone else entirely. Nuek died when Da'in was young and he didn't remember him. Nobody had anything very important or impressive to say about Nuek anyway. And Da'in was his own name, to do with as he pleased.

"I will be Jack," he announced firmly, though his voice quivered as he spoke. "My name is Jack Nista. You can remember that, can't you?"

There was a little bit of a stunned silence in the room. Several pairs of eyes glanced at Jack, who suddenly felt quite rigid. Da'in worried that perhaps he had offended them somehow and his shaken and stirred nerves suddenly resurfaced again, his body starting to tremble from the stress still running through it.

"Jack it is," Jack suddenly agreed, and he tucked the soft cloth in around Da'in's body more carefully.

There was a murmur of agreement through the room and then silence fell again. For some reason, as time passed, Da'in found his quivering only got worse. He pushed his tongue against his mother's flesh but couldn't taste her blood anymore. Her strength had left him. All he had left of her now was a scrap of skin.

"Are you alright?" Donna-Sylvia asked softly, in the kind of hushed voice that Mother sometimes used with him, and her hand landed lightly on his back. "You've been  _so_  brave, but you have been through a lot today."

"Now is not the time for mourning," Da'in responded through stubborn reflex. He tried to steel himself and regain control. But something about the kindness in Donna-Sylvia's eyes and the way Jack's arms adjusted to hold him a little closer quickly broke down any walls he put up.

"Jack," Donna-Sylvia whispered his new name to him, gently rubbing her hand on his back. "Now  _is_  the time for mourning."

Then, without any choice at all, he pushed his face into Jack's chest and cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The series continues from here with chapter 10 of Domestic Life.


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